


Stuck Between Suns

by TinyAngryPuppy



Series: Stuck Between Suns [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alcoholism, Anime Club, Bulges and Nooks (Homestuck), Can Town, Canon Compliant, Dave Strider Raps, Deepthroating, F/F, Hate Makeouts, Interior Design, Lesbian Sex, Love Triangles, Marijuana, Meteorstuck, No Tentabulges (Homestuck), Oral Sex, Polyamory, Porn With Plot, Quadrant Vacillation, Retcon Timeline, Sex, Size Kink, Spinneret Mindfang's Journal, Threesome - F/F/F, Typing Quirks, Vaginal Sex, mario kart 64 - Freeform, risk (board game), weightlifting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2020-08-18 20:29:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20197687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinyAngryPuppy/pseuds/TinyAngryPuppy
Summary: “I think this is where I’m supposed to say something like, ‘stay away from my girlfriend,’ threaten you, rattle a saber. But really I just want for Kanaya to be happy. If that means we have to… take turns, we can… come to an arrangement.”“I’ve never 8een good at w8ing,” she says, “8ut I don’t think that’s strictly necessary.” She flashes you a half-grin, exposing her sharp, shiny fangs.“You’re not suggesting…?!” Your face reddens as the implication hits you.In a fluid motion, Vriska backs you against the wall, her bulging arms to either side of you. “I’ve never 8een good at sharing either, 8ut hey. It would make her twice as happy right? And then no one has to settle.” There’s no denying Kanaya would be pleased with the arrangement, and there’s no denying that Vriska is irreconcilably gorgeous.Your mouth twists in lust and disgust as she looks down at you with those predatory, mismatched eyes, her long snarls of hair falling about her peaked shoulders. You kind of want to finger her until she’s a whimpering mess, do something about that pride. You kind of want to squeeze her head between your thighs while she pays you back. You kind of get the sense that you’re starting to understand blackrom.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *7/28/20 update: Chapter 3 was missing for a while, I had chapter 4 in there twice. It's fixed now, so if you missed it check it out*   
Characters are aged up appropriately.

Your name is Kanaya Maryam and you’re Not Sure About This. Leaving the comforting glow of the Green Sun in favor of a sweep-and-a-half-long journey through nothingness towards an uncertain fate… the thought is putting cocoon flappers in your nutrition satchel, to put it mildly. You frown and fang your lip. Your quest ended in failure, but more importantly, you failed in your responsibility to your lusus. The matriorb, the future of your species, has been destroyed, and right under your nasal chute, too. Everyone still has a very important job to do, but it’s hard to think of anything as important anymore.

You look around at the meteor’s other residents. Karkat, shouting himself red in the face. He’s beyond help right now, but he’ll need you later. Aradia and Sollux, the eternally doomed. At least she’s happy, you think, and she deserves to be. You’ve always gotten the sense that Sollux would follow her to the end of time. You just didn’t think you’d be there to see it happen. Gamzee, that murderous piece of shit, is hogtied and placid, thanks to Vriska, in her god-tier tunic, laughing and high-fiving Terezi. They have a whole secret handshake, with dance moves and everything. It looks like the time you spent as her palemate was meaningless after all, a placeholder, as you sometimes suspected. That was a while ago, though, and though you sink a little seeing them now, for the most part you only feel more hollow inside. For her part, Terezi’s sardonic grin is back, and you’re a bit relieved— recently her permanent scowl has been making you nervous.

You turn to the newest arrivals, the recently god-tiered humans. A hint of color rises to your cheeks as you gaze at Rose Lalonde, alive and ascendant. Her hood obscured her eyes, but the wry smile told you everything you needed to know as she and Dave alighted on the platform. No one wasted much time on introductions, as Rose was quick to point out that the time for departure is near. Her newfound god-tier light abilities notwithstanding, and as much as you want to be near her, and Karkat and Vriska and everyone, you’re just… Not Sure About This. And after all, it’s been so long since you felt the sunshine.

But then. 

“Can you please come?” asks Rose, and there’s no longer a choice. You half-smile as her eyes meet yours for the first time, and you realize that, as the emblem on her robe suggests, she can be your sun for these next few “years.” You agree.

Suddenly, you feel a cold, heavy arm drape across your shoulder as Vriska joins you. 

“What’s up, girls? That’s a pretty cool god-tier getup you got on there, Lalonde! Not the coolest one, though, o8viously. 8ut still, I’m glad to have a couple more undisputed winners on 8oard, including another light player.” Her sudden proximity causes your luminescence to flare, reflecting off her orange tunic and illuminating the sun logo on her broad chest, and you gulp. She grins, revealing her fangs, long and sharp. “Kanaya just looooooooves light players, isn’t that right?” and with a wink of her seven-pupiled eye and a squeeze of your shoulder, she trots off to bother Karkat some more, stepping over Gamzee’s supine form.

You smile in embarrassment and look down at the floor. 

“Um, I—Well, I Do Have An Affinity For Sunshine, I Suppose,” you stammer. When you look up, Rose is suddenly quite close.

“I was hoping we’d get the chance to talk,” she says, your glow reflecting off her soft-looking skin and platinum-blonde hair.

“You—Didn’t Know For Sure? With All Your…” You wiggle your frondstalks at her light emblem.

“Let me rephrase that. Now is when we talk, Kanaya. I just didn’t want it to sound like you didn’t have a choice.” You nervously look around, unable to meet her confident gaze, and accidently look at Vriska again.

“Do I?” You Say. “I Mean, About Coming Along. I Want To—Mostly—It’s Just That I Don’t See A Future For Me. Everyone Else Seems To Know Exactly What They’re Doing. Well, Or… You See, The Matriorb—”

Rose reaches her small hands out and holds yours to stop you from wringing them. 

“You’re going to come with us. We’re going to have a lovely trip together. And yes, there’s a… a future, I suppose you’d call it, at the end of this. I wish I could be more specific, but that’s not exactly how this works. I don’t know for sure if you’ll create another matriorb, or if I’ll even know before you. But I can guarantee your chance to do so is not here. It’s with us, at our destination.”

You smile again, her hands warm around yours. 

“Well Then, What Are We Waiting For?”

Your name is Rose Lalonde, and you’ve had a hell of a day. The crowd heads down into the meteor’s core to settle in for a long journey, and although your newly-incarnated body is bursting with vitality, your transferred consciousness is just as fatigued as it was before the giant bomb hidden inside the tumor blew you and your ecto-brother to smithereens. Your mind races with newfound ability, expanded knowledge, and a keen, almost clairvoyant intuition, but while this move was illuminated for you-- launching this godforsaken chunk of space rock on a very specific trajectory at a very specific speed-- the next move is as dark as Kanaya’s hair. As you follow her into the depths of the meteor, your gaze traces up your guide’s form. She’s tall, even for a troll, a full head taller than you at least. Her careful steps through the dark corridor, those long, lean legs, the sway of her hips, her poised back, the faint glow of her skin through the hair on the nape of her neck. Those fine, attractively tousled locks that fall around her pointed ears and, rather than being shiny like human hair, seem almost to absorb light. That insouciant coiffure out of which rise her bright, slender horns, lethal-looking and uneven, one hooked as if begging you to try its barb with your finger. But surely, you think with a blush, should you dare try, no sooner would you touch the point than would her horn pierce your finger, and should Kanaya espy your blood, would she be able to suppress the carnal urge? Would her predator’s eyes dart from your bloody finger to your neck? Would she bring it to her trembling lips, to partake of your life essence?

Oh no, wow, stop right there. Insouciant coiffure? Life essence? Come on, you thought you were past this. It’s one thing to dabble in a bit of sexy vampire fanfiction, but it’s another to adopt an internal narrative based around gothic romance novel tropes. Kanaya is a very attractive young lady, and the two of you have developed quite a rapport, but you just got here and you’re tired. Still, as you allow your gaze to travel down along her curves in that red dress—

Kanaya stops and gestures to a door, unmarked save for “KANAYA MARYAM” written in green. 

“Er, This Is My Block, And I Was Thinking Since The One Next Door Is Free, Perhaps You’d Like To Be… Neighbors?” She fangs her lip nervously.

You meet her gaze, looking up at her and hoping the tiredness doesn’t show in your eyes. 

“That would be wonderful. Thank you for—Well, I seem to suddenly know an awful lot, but in any case, I don’t know if I could have made it here without your help along the way.”

Kanaya glows bright. “I—I Didn’t Do Anything!”

You smile sweetly at her, your breast bursting with sudden affection, and all of a sudden your vision goes white. Visions come. You’re back on earth. No, it’s not Earth; there are carapacians and trolls, and you see Kanaya, a little older, holding your hand. You see her dressed in white, beautiful like you’ve never seen her, smiling and holding back tears.

You feel light-headed as she carries you over the threshold into a lovely house, her strength making this an easy task, and you lock eyes with her as she licks her fangs and says, “You’re Mine Forever Now.” Shedding her—her wedding dress? Your pulse races as her body is revealed to you in exquisite while lingerie, all curves and coiled muscle, and she crawls over you on the bed and kisses you. “And I’m Yours. My Beautiful One, My Dear.”

You’re so happy and proud. 

“My love,” you say, between kisses, as her body bears down on yours, cool and firm and scintillating. Your mind is mercifully blank as you succumb to the feeling of your lover, as her body rests on yours. Your hands race to remove your last scraps of clothing, and when there’s nothing left separating the two of you, you sigh a hot breath to the heavens and open yourself to her. 

“Please—Kanaya—I’m ready!”

“Rose,” she breathes as she reaches down to align her shaft to your waiting folds. She sighs as she enters you, inch after hard inch, and suddenly you’re full to bursting, her size never easy for you but always so very worth it. “I love you, I love you so—Ah,” She moans, rolling her hips and reaching deeper and deeper inside of you. Her bulge fills you so perfectly, and over the years you’ve learned each other’s every desire. At this point, bringing you to climax is effortless for your lover—your wife. 

And then you’re back. Kanaya has laid you on her bed. When she sees you’re awake, she rushes over with a cup of water. 

“Are You OK, You Suddenly Collapsed And I Didn’t Know What To—”

You smile weakly at her, suddenly exhausted from your vision, already beginning to fade from your memory but leaving you blushing, your whole body warm. 

“I think we’re gonna be… just fine, Kanaya.” You say, and then slumber takes you.


	2. Chapter 2

Your name is Rose Lalonde, and you’re not sure about this. Folded neatly before you between a few makeup items and an almost-full bottle of gin is a short dress. You and Kanaya alchemized this bright-orange prom dress as part of a “shopping spree” a few months ago on what everyone reasoned was probably 12th Perigee’s Eve, along with a dozen other outfits designed around whatever objects were nearby. Some of the outfits are pretty and suit you well, but you mostly just stick to your god tier robes outside of special occasions. But tonight _is_ a special occasion, or at least you hope it will be; when you had asked Kanaya to reserve some time for a “date,” the word just kind of came out. Kanaya didn’t seem too affected by it, so why should you? Will she dress up? Should you?

Life on the meteor has been quiet and simple, leaving you with ample free time to pursue your interests and hobbies. In the mornings, such as they are, you drink coffee and read a book. In the afternoons, you drink coffee and do some needlework, perhaps sharing a conversation with whomever walks by. You spend most of your time with Kanaya, occasionally checking in on Dave and Karkat, and more or less leaving Vriska and Terezi alone. Sometimes, the Mayor will come by to look at your newest scarf or pair of mittens, and when he does, he always wears the orange beanie you made for him. When you’re hungry, you alchemize a meal. When you’re sleepy, you take a nap or drink more coffee.

You treasure your time with Kanaya, whether you’re doing something together or simply working on your own projects in the same space; you enjoy the whirr of her sewing machine in the background as you read. Your record at Scrabble is nearly even after over a hundred matches, and though she can reliably beat you at War thanks to her Drinker Fastness, you nearly always win at Gin Rummy. Neither of you are any good at video games, which makes Mario Kart more of a contest of who can deliver the most spectacular boast, only to fall off Rainbow Road three times in a row. You’ve never completed a single course, but each session ends in peals of laughter. Sometimes, one of you will catch the other staring, only to look away sheepishly. There’s a tension, something unresolved, and you’ve decided as the one who can kinda-sorta see the future, you should be the one to do something about it.

You smile, thinking of her. Her fangy smile, the way she looks at the floor when she’s happy, like she doesn’t deserve anything good. You want to make her understand that no one deserves to be happy more than she does. You look down at the dress you’re considering. A bit short, and a bit low-cut. Compared to the comfy and concealing god-tier robes you’re used to, it’s very exposing. You haven’t really looked at yourself much since arriving on the meteor—you never bothered alchemizing yourself a mirror since they cost a ridiculous amount of grist for some reason, and anyway you wear the same thing every day—but suddenly you feel self-conscious. You know Kanaya is fond of you, but does she find you attractive the way you find her? You look from the dress to the lipstick and mascara on the table, to the bottle of your mother’s gin. It is a special occasion after all, and you could use the confidence boost. You pour yourself a mug and uncap the lipstick.

You’re still on your first cup as you wait in the activity room, in which you and Kanaya were planning on meeting. Dave and Karkat are already there, working on music. After some gentle ribbing about your outfit from your ecto-brother and terse silence from Karkat, you sit down across from them. It’s not like Kanaya to be late, you think to yourself. Your stomach is still in knots, but you like how the outfit came together, and you’re confident that she will too. The effects of the liquor are helping settle your nerves, but not so much that you’re losing control of your faculities… you mean faculties. You hear footsteps approaching, and you quickly comport yourself as you turn to see not Kanaya, but Vriska of all people come through the door.

“Hey, Lalonde! Kanaya was looking for you in the common room. Woah, someone’s looking fancy tonight! What’s the occ8tion?” as usual, Vriska has no indoor voice.

“Common room? I thought we’d be meeting here for our—evening,” you say, almost slipping up and showing your hand.

“Date,” says Dave, just loud enough that everyone can hear it. Karkat perks up.

“D8!?” shrills Vriska, black lips parting in a fangy grin. “Woah, you two are getting serious! That explains the dress in any c8se, looks like another Maryam special. You know, she made a sexy dress for me once, too.” You feel color rise to your cheeks as you get the sense she’s eyeing you, which is about four times as bad as usual when it’s Vriska doing it.

“Sexy?” you repeat, quietly. You look down at your dress, reevaluating its lines as the word reverberates through your mind. “It’s just something we alchemized together, and anyway, It’s not really a date…” you begin.

“SLOW YOUR BREADCHUNK, VRISKA,” Karkat rasps, pulling out the earbud he’s sharing with Dave. “I’M BLOWING THE WHISTLE ON THAT KIND OF LANGUAGE. FUCKING TWEEET!”

“Dude, that’s not what slow your roll means.” Dave interrupts. “Slow your roll means like, you’re on a skateboard, busting mad kickflips, but like, your grinds are reaching terminal velocity and if you keep going you’re gonna end up breaking a collarbone on the lip of the pool, you get me?”

“I THOUGHT IT MEANT YOU’RE EATING YOUR HUMAN CARBOHYDRATE NUGGET TOO FAST, AND YOU’RE GOING TO CHOKE?” 

“We talked about human four-wheel device analogies, they’re best left to the pros. Like Rodney Mullen. Hang on, let me rap this, check it, ok; before you start spittin’ ‘bout trucks and wheels/ find a better way to share your give-a-fucks and feels/ cause here’s the deal/ I grip tape with sex appeal/ call me Goldfinger, fly like the Man of Steel/ Don’t stop me when I’m on a roll like shredded cheese/ oh shit this wasn’t spos’ta be ‘bout bread analogies/ Karkat please/ respect the skatepark OG’s/ hot like Tony Hawk, I’m 900 degrees…”

Ignoring this, you look back to Vriska. Aware of the color on your cheeks, you begin to ask, “Um. How do I look? Do you think Kan-”

But Dave is on a tear. “We can do this at school or in an airplane hanger/ MC Strider live with another banger/ DJ Karkat, return it like a boomerang or/ bounced check, raise heck but rhyme not in anger/ Yo Kark, keep it spinning, 540 mctwist/ this flow’s impossible, no stalefish/ If you don’t dig my rap you can pop shove-it/ But pop back in three days, Christ air, Burnquist!” Dave picks a USB microphone up off the table and drops it again.

“I DIDN’T UNDERSTAND MOST OF THAT,” Karkat growled.

Vriska turns back to you. “You look… _gr8_,” she breathes, and your blush deepens. Vriska’s eyes narrow as she takes in the sight of you, her tall frame leaning over you slightly. Heightwise, Vriska is about halfway between you and Kanaya, but unlike your small, spare figure and Kanaya’s long, willowy body, she’s solidly built, thighs and arms thick with muscle, and she carries herself with a swagger wholly her own. Right now, those corded arms are on either side of you, bracing her on the edge of the table, trapping you in your seat. You refuse to shrink back, even though it means her face is so close to yours you can feel her breath as she smirks. “Kanaya’s gonna love it.” But before another word is said, she sniffs slightly. “What’s that smell? Lalonde, you’re not drinking that ‘gin’ again are you?”

You frown, looking down at your glass unconsciously. “I only—” But before you can say anything else, Vriska rears back and slaps the cup out of your hands, smashing it on the ground. Karkat practically jumps out of his skin, and presses himself against Dave out of reflex.

All of a sudden, the cerulean seems fully pissed off. “I c8n’t believe you.” Leaning over you even closer, she spits, “You’d 8etter not hurt her… or else I’ll hurt _you_.”

You feel awful, especially because there’s nothing you can say in response. Vriska is right, and… terrifyingly convincing? You look from your hands to the smashed cup on the floor. There’s only one thing to do. You reach over to the bottle you’d brought with you and offer it to Vriska. “Can you please… get rid of this?” You look at up at her, and her expression returns to a cocky smirk once more.

“Sure, Lalonde. Take care of our little Miss Maryam, OK? Out of all of us, she’s… well, she deserves it.” Vriska pauses, gazes downwards. “Maybe she’s the only one who does.”

You laugh nervously, unsure of the correct reaction to such a statement, but stop when you hear another set of footsteps approach. You both turn to face Kanaya herself, dressed in flats, seersucker capris and a blouse of powder-blue linen. 

“Rose! I Apologize, I Thought We Were Meeting In The Common Room But Vriska Said You Might Be Here…” She begins, then looks around. “Er, Hello, Vriska, Everyone. Hmm—Am I Underdressed For The Occasion?”

You shake your head, but before you can say anything, Vriska wheels to Kanaya, smirking with her hands on her hips. She intones, “Oh, and what occ8sion might this 8e?”

“It’s a date,” Dave says.

In unison, you and Kanaya both say, “It’s not a date!” Dave chuckles, and Karkat makes a sound like someone’s revving a chainsaw in his voicebox. Vriska just smiles.

“Come on Kanaya, let’s go for a walk,” you say, seizing her hand and leading her out of the room quickly. You’re both blushing, and when you take her hand Kanaya begins to glow slightly. Once you’ve left the chamber, however, your pace slows and your tension dissipates a little; you share a bit of nervous laughter.

Kanaya turns to you. 

“Rose.” She’s looking down and nibbling her lip, like she always does when she’s happy.

“Kanaya.” You reply, smiling at her. You can’t help it, she’s so cute when she’s nervous. “I’m sorry I was late to our date. It’s totally my fault. I got a bit mixed up.”

“So This Is To Be A Date? A… Romantically Oriented One?” she says, meeting your gaze. “If I Had Known, I Would Have Put On Something More Flattering. You Look So Ravishing And Here I Showed Up Looking Like Something The Lusus Dragged In.”

Your heart pounds. 

“Firstly, hush. You always look stunning. I just got a bit carried away, that’s all. And second… well, yes, Romantically Oriented. Er, flushed, I suppose you’d say? If that’s OK...”

Kanaya gulps but doesn’t look away. 

“Rose, I Feel The Same Way. I—For A While Now, In Fact.”

You continue in relief, feeling like you could float off the ground at any minute. “I sensed—well, I’d seen outcomes of tonight in visions but that didn’t make it any easier asking you in the here and now. I kept talking myself out of it, which I suppose for a seer is just procrastinating.”

Kanaya frowns, stroking your cheek. “Why Would You Feel Unsure?”

“It’s just that, no matter how much time we spend together or how much we enjoy each other’s company, I don’t exactly have the self-confidence of… certain people, you know. I was just standing in my room, second-guessing myself, and I… started drinking again. Not much, just enough to settle my nerves, but I feel awful that I felt I had to do that. Plus, Vriska came in and made a federal fucking issue out of it,” you say, chuckling slightly in embarrassment.

“Well, She Does Tend To Overblow Things. But, Yes, I Can Sympathize With Your Trepidation. On More Than One Occasion I’ve Stood In My Block, Considering How To Tell You Of My Feelings But Then Applying Alternative Hypotheses, And Each Time I Argued Myself Out Of It. I Should Have Been More Forthright, Or At Least Acted More Receptive To Such An Arrangement. As For The Alcohol, Well… Let’s Work Together To Keep It To A Minimum From Now On.”

You smile and nod. “Absolutely. And… by ‘Such An Arrangement,’ you mean…?”

She smiles back. “Why, Matespritship Of Course,” she says, meeting your eyes with her own forest-green gaze.

“Kanaya, you’ll be my matesprit?” you ask her, weightless.

Kanaya takes your hands and says, “Nothing Would Make Me Happier,” and not waiting for you to take this initiative this time, your brand-new lover takes you in her arms and kisses you.

Your name is Kanaya Maryam and you’ve never been so sure of anything in your life. You’re so flushed for your matesprit—no, you “love your girlfriend,” it gives you such a thrill to use her words. You love her sun-colored hair, her lilac eyes. You love her button nose and her smile divots. You love how little she is, and how she stands on her tiptoes to kiss you, especially when she could simply float. You love making her clothes, and you love the beret she knitted for you, complete with horn holes. You love how she can spend a whole scrabble game flirting via her word choices—R1A1V4I1S1H4, M3O1A1N1, N1I1B3B3L1E1— and still beat you. You love how when she walks into a room you’re in, she comes over and gives you a silent squeeze on the shoulder, because you love each other so much you don’t need to say anything. 

It’s only been a few days since you made it official, but they’ve been wonderful days. After that first kiss, you held hands and wandered the hallways of the meteor with no destination, stopping here and there to kiss again, each time experimenting with taking it a little further, each time experiencing a new rush of excitement. When she slipped her tongue between your lips and wrapped her arms around the small of your back to rest on the swell of your hips, a rushing coolness settled in your belly and something was set in motion that has been addling you ever since. You ended up on the roof, watching the nothingness go by, arms around each other, feet dangling off the edge, and who knows how many minutes passed as you kissed deeply and whispered your love into each other’s ears. Your clothes stayed on, and your hands remained in respectable territory; you both had enough sense to stretch out this initial excitement for as long as possible. But as you tore yourselves away and made your way back to your neighboring blocks, Rose grinned at you slyly and copped a handful of your ass, and you couldn’t simply allow such boldness to go unanswered. You escalated and pulled her to you with both hands on her plump, soft behind, inadvertently pressing your hips to her lower belly, where a deep throbbing had begun. You hadn’t even noticed how worked up you’d gotten, and you pulled away quickly, eyes wide, as she looked from your suddenly-glowing face to the slightly-damp front of your skirt, then back up to your eyes. 

“Er—Perhaps It’s Time To Say Goodnight?” you said, backing away slightly, face glowing green.

“Um, yeah,” Rose said, blushing deeply as well. The way she stared at you… that cool rushing feeling returned tenfold. You shift awkwardly. “I’m—I’m really happy, Kanaya, my matesprit.”

“Me Too, My… Girlfriend.” you said, unable to stop yourself from fanging your kiss-swollen lip, but you didn’t look down. It wouldn’t be a first date if it didn’t end awkwardly, though, and you both returned to your rooms full of words left unsaid and desires unsatisfied. Your body was churning, and still is.

You love her bouncy, round butt. You love the flare of her hips below her little waist. You love her slender dancer’s limbs. You love how soft her skin is, no matter where you touch. You love her warmth, especially the heat of her mouth when you kiss her. You love her curious little hands. And you can’t wait to love all the parts of her you haven’t yet discovered.

She’s so different from Vriska, you think to yourself. The only other person you’ve ever been flushed for was Rose’s opposite in every way. Where Rose is soft and sweet, Vriska is tough and… well, bitter isn’t the right word for it, but maybe acerbic? She’s definitely an acquired taste, and while she strung you along for a little while, you never truly got a chance to see if her flavor was to your liking. Lately she’s been spending all her time with Terezi, but you don’t get a sense they’re even one iota outside the pale quadrant. You can’t stop wondering just what she’d been doing with Rose (_to_ Rose?) just before you came in that night, but you sense that Rose would rather not talk about it, and you haven’t asked.

These past few days with Rose have been more or less like the past year, just with more kissing. But you think if something doesn’t happen soon you might burst. Lying in your respiteblock, undressed, you frown slightly. The… thing that started the other night was a new sensation for you, a level of arousal you hadn’t felt before, combined with a physical sensation you were unfamiliar with. When you pressed your hips to Rose, you felt a thrill you’d never felt before. You go to your mirror, the one you spent a ridiculous amount of grist on, and look yourself over. You’ve grown tall, noticeably so compared to before the session, but your reflection reveals no clue as to the source of that new sensation. You trace your fingertips over the carapace of your belly and sides absently, recalling the sensation of Rose’s caresses, and before long you begin to recapture a semblance of that rush. You remove your bra and panties, and then try to take yourself back to that night. You begin to nibble at your lip, remembering the warmth of Rose’s inquisitive tongue. Your ghost over the sensitive carapace of your newly exposed chest with your fingertips, hissing slightly as your nipples harden in the cool air of your room. In no time you succumb to the urge for more sensation, and begin to squeeze and pinch your rumble spheres, shuddering in sudden pleasure. Your long, lean body begins to sway slightly as your legs weaken and that rush becomes a torrent, and you trace down your toned belly, between your sharp hipbones, to your waiting nook, the little cleft there just beginning to show your emerald arousal within. You’ve masturbated before, hidden away under the covers and dying of shame, but you’ve never watched yourself become aroused. You come out of your daze for a moment, fetch a chair, and sit down in front of your mirror with your legs spread enough to give you access to your nook. You’re wet in no time at all, and your long fingers smear the verdant slime all over your nook, slicking up your folds and turning that rushing feeling into a pulsing throb. Your frond tips stir up the slick folds, plucking and flicking the sensitive bud that, based on your research, mirrors the human “clitoris.” Focusing as much as you can at the moment, you take yourself back to that night. To Rose’s hand on your rear, the feeling of being wanted by the one you wanted. To your own hands on Rose’s sublimely soft body, the tenderness of her ass, and when you pressed your need to her— You let out a deep gasp and shudder as the throbbing within your nook intensifies. Slowly, your dark-green little bud there is growing outwards even as your feel your pulse throb all through your hips. Soon, from within the folds of your nook springs a jade-green shaft, long, stiff, and slick with arousal.

Your head spins and your eyes go wide as you attempt to process the implications through a heavy cloud of raw lust. Female trolls’ physiology isn’t supposed to work like this, going by everything you know… which you suppose at the end of the night is not a lot. Could this be an aspect of being a rainbow drinker? Of being a Jadeblood? Or were you misinformed and it’s perfectly normal? It’s not like you ever really talked about this topic with your lusus. You look down at your twitching… bulge, and then at yourself in the mirror. One thing is for sure… it’s awfully big. You hope it’ll go back in later or you’re going to need a whole new wardrobe.

You reach a hand down and grasp it, and you immediately shudder in pleasure. It’s different that the pleasure of stroking your nook, less of a total-body sensation and more localized to the bulge itself. You begin to feel along its length and trace the network of veins along its surface, pulsing jade. With both hands, you seize as much as you can and strive to maximize the pleasure of stroking it, unsure of your destination but enjoying the ride. You glimpse yourself in the mirror and gasp. Your face is a rictus of pleasure, even drooling slightly, the head of your bulge leaking geneslime that trickles down and slickens your shaft even more. Your nook is wide with arousal, and you drop a hand down to plunge three fingers inside yourself, arching your back as you begin to pump even faster. Every muscle in your body stiffens; your toes curl, your jaw clamps, and at last, the dam breaks.

A torrent of jade-green cum explodes from the tip of your bulge, plastering your mirror with sticky arcs and splatters. Unable to hold on, you lose your grip on your bulge and it slaps down onto your stomach, continuing to spray genetic material all over you, twitching with each thick burst, sending cascades skyward to rain on you. You feel it fall on your face and taste it in your mouth. Your chest and belly are splattered with green. Your thighs are crisscrossed with lines of cum, and as the jets cease, a trickle from the head coats the underside of your shaft with the remnants of your bulge’s first orgasm. You’re left a mess, gasping for breath, in a puddle of your own slime as your bulge softens and shrinks before withdrawing into your nook. In the mirror, you can’t tell where your cum ends and your reflection begins. You finally catch your breath and look around.

You sigh. It’s going to take forever to clean this up.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dammit I accidentally put chapter 4 here for a while so I’m sorry if you missed this one

Your name is Kanaya Maryam and you’re pretty sure this was a mistake. You came to the activity room to find Rose absent. Dave stands before a chalkplane, reviewing lecture notes, while Karkat sits impatiently on the bench before him, beside the Mayor, whose head is wrapped in a tightly-tied stocking of some sort. “Dave,” you begin, “I Was Wondering If I Might Have A Word—”

“I’m in the middle of something important, Naynay. What’s this about?”

Your eyes narrow at the appellation. “Humans.”

“Dope, you’re just in time then, this lecture is all about humans. But I’m gonna have to ask you to please hold questions until the end. Go ahead and have a seat by the Mayor and help yourself to refreshments.” Dave motions to the bench beside Karkat, where a thermos labelled ‘JIUCS’ and a few paper cups sit. He then writes “Rap 102” on the board in red chalk.

You furrow your brow and deploy a Look at him, but you sit down anyway. “Fine Then, It’s About Rose, Or More Broadly, Appropriate Dating Procedures For Humans. Karkat, I Hope You’ll Forgive Me For Not Coming To You First.”

Karkat shrugs. “IF THERE’S SUCH A THING AS APPROPRIATE DATING PROCEDURES FOR HUMANS, I SURE AS FUCK HAVEN’T FOUND THEM YET.”

Dave cuts in, “Bitches and hos are covered in the next lecture, Selected Topics in Advanced Rap Studies. It’s scheduled for Tuesday.”

“And When, Pray Tell, Is Tuesday?” you snap, growing increasingly frustrated. This time both of them shrug.

Dave clears his throat. Exasperated, you sit down and pour yourself some juice. Apple, of course. “OK, let’s begin with a review of 101, starting with sources of revenue. Top three ways to make money in rap? Anyone?”

Karkat flips through his Thresh Prince notebook and raises his hand. 

“Karkat?”

“PHYSICAL ALBUM SALES, SELLING DRUGS, AND… CRIMES.” As he says each word, Dave writes them on the board.

“Exactly. No reason to think physical album sales would ever have been replaced as the main source of revenue for rappers. Speaking of selling drugs, did you do your homework?”

“YOU MEAN DID I OFFLOAD THE HUMAN SOPORLEAF YOU ALCHEMZIED? YES.”

“Wait, yes? That was supposed to be a joke. Who did you sell it to? Don’t tell me Gamzee escaped?”

“NO, I SOLD IT TO VRISKA.”

“Like, for money?”

“I GUESS? VRISKA IS LUDICROUSLY RICH, EVERYONE KNOWS THAT. YOU DIDN’T SAY HOW MUCH IT WAS SUPPOSED TO COST SO I JUST ASKED FOR ONE OF THESE. DOES THIS COUNT AS MONEY?” Karkat uncaptchalogues a jewel-encrusted golden goblet and tosses it to Dave.

“Holy shit. The student has truly become the pimpmaster. But wait, since when is Vriska rich? She dresses like shit.”

You interrupt. “It’s True That Vriska Is In Possession Of A Vast Fortune, But Nearly All Of Her Accumulated Wealth Was Stolen From Her Numerous Victims. Can One Such As Her Truly Be Said To Be Rich?” 

Dave taps the word ‘Crimes’ on the chalkplane and says, “Fuck yeah. OK, continuing on, today’s lecture will cover the East-Coast/West-Coast feud with a short dissertation on Dirty South, plus a practicum on sampling—”

“There you are,” comes a voice from behind you, and to turn to see Rose, unusually dressed in black denim shorts and a maroon-and-black striped tank top. “Kanaya, could you possibly aid me in a project? Unless you’re busy. Afternoon, boys.”

Grateful for any excuse to leave, you nod to Dave and Karkat before rising from your seat. “Apologies. Hopefully Attendance Isn’t Mandatory In This Course? I’ll Be Back For Selected Topics,” and, taking Rose’s hand, you exit together.

“Thank You For Saving Me,” you say as you make your way through the halls. “Is There Really A Project Or Was That A Ruse?”

“No distactions here,” Rose quips, “I really do need your help on something. Something your skillset is particularly well-suited for.”

Your name is Rose Lalonde and you’re not sure how much more of this you can take. You and Kanaya have been dating for weeks now and yet she’s still barely taken things any further than the night you became matesprits in the first place. You’ve tried to escalate things, and once she even went so far as to feel up your breasts under your shirt, but every time your hand tries to slide down between her legs she pulls away, leaving you both embarrassed and killing the mood. She assures you it’s not you, but since you quit drinking you’ve had a lot of trouble trying to silence that constant self-doubting inner monologue that has plagued you your whole life. Can it be that she just doesn’t want you after all? You’re starting to get desperate. And so, a desperation play seems apropos, don’t you think?

You had the idea that morning as you were getting dressed. You’d hit a growth spurt in the last month, and your figure is finally beginning to fill out. Though you’d never placed a great deal of importance on your physical appearance, the addition of a girlfriend into the equation made you somewhat more conscious of your looks. As your body changes and grows to more closely resemble your mother’s hourglass figure, you’ve even begun to flatter yourself as attractive. It’s OK to be a little vain, right? You are a god after all.

The side effect of all this developing, however, was that some of the clothes you created in your first round of alchemization, including your perfectly generic underwear, no longer fit you very well. The waistband of your white cotton panties digs into your hips and your plain underwire bras has begun to feel like something from a Victorian torture chamber, or romance novel. But as you headed to the alchemization station to craft new ones, a plan sprung to mind fully formed. So instead of creating new lingerie, you crafted yourself a measuring tape and went to find your terminally shy lover.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re locking the door to your shared craft room. Over the past year, this room has grown in lockstep with your relationship; while it was originally more or less divided into your half and hers, now you do most of your work at the same table. But as you enter the room, it’s the sizing platform in one of her corners that you eye. Largely unused due to the convenience and expediency of clothing alchemization, Kanaya nonetheless usually has a couple of dresses in the works just for fun. The first time she sized you for one, you kept your god tier robes on at her blushing insistence. Not this time.

“Oh? Is The Lock Necessary?” Kanaya says. “What Exactly Do You Have In Store For Me This Afternoon, Miss Lalonde?”

You gather your nerves, reach down, and pull off your tank top, revealing your squeezed, swelling breasts in your ill-fitting bra. “I was hoping you could help me with this, actually.”

Kanaya’s eyes go wide and color blooms along her sharp cheekbones. Her eyes trace your curves, and you feel yourself start to blush too as you begin to unbutton your shorts. You wiggle them down and off your unfamiliarly wide hips, kicking them off to the side somewhere. Suddenly you’re unsure of what to do with your hands, so you gesture to where the band of your bra digs into your ribcage. “As you can see, things aren’t fitting the way they used to.”

“I… I Do See,” Kanaya says, taking a step forward. “That Must Be Awfully Uncomfortable. I’m Delighted That You Came To Me With This Problem. Now… What Did You Have In Mind?”

“Consider me your canvas. Make me anything that you’d like to see me wear. I’ve… never really worn anything fancy before, so I don’t really know, and anyway this is supposed to be as much a present for you as it is for me. Oh! I almost forgot.” You left the measuring tape in the pocket of your shorts. Feeling bold, you turn to face away from Kanaya and bend at the hip to retrieve it, allowing her an eyeful of your coltish legs and the way your too-small panties dig into the flesh of your plump ass. As you rise, turn and smile innocently at your girlfriend, delighted to find the emerald blush has spread across her face from ear to pointy ear and she’s nibbling her lip in that adorable, pleased way that you love. You proffer the tape and say, “Here you go, love.”

Kanaya steps forward to accept the tape. “Rose, You Simply Grow Lovelier Every Day. I Don’t Know What I Did To Deserve You. Now I Apologize, But If You Want An Accurate Sizing, You’re Really Going To Have To Take Those Off.”

You melt a little. Even the polite suggestion of an authoritative tone and an order to follow from your tall, strong girlfriend makes you a little weak in the knees, especially in your vulnerable state of dress before her. When you see the passion in her eyes… you decide you could really get used to being her dress-up doll.

“Gladly, but…” turning around again, you offer her your bra clasps. She obliges, unhooking your bra and stepping back to let you finish. So you shrug off the bra and then slide down your panties, leaving red lines high and low on the sides of your naked body. Suddenly your confidence falters, and you look down. A familiar sense of shame wells up and feel the urge to cover yourself, but then you look at Kanaya and find her eyes, and she nods. The gesture means everything; there’s no need for words. She seems equal parts excited to get you naked and to get you dressed again, but either way, it’s clear you’re not in charge of the situation anymore.

Your name is Kanaya Maryam and sweet mother grub, your beautiful human matesprit is standing before you, smiling and pulling her panties off. You’re flummoxed, you’re stymied, you’re besotted; you can’t do words good. You stare, and you can tell she wants you to—but where to begin? You’re a more visually oriented person than most trolls, you suppose, but while Rose is certainly a lovely girl, that’s hardly why you became flushed for her. When you met in person and realized the girl you already had a crush on was quite beautiful in point of fact, it was really just the sucrose fluid on the confection platform.

Sure enough, her body has undergone some maturation in the past year. She’s grown about two Earth inches, putting her forehead at the perfect kissing height, and the effect seems to have been an evening-out of her proportions. She’s lost some of the softness she possessed when you met her, but she’s not quite skinny. Her fine, tempting neck and her freckled shoulders, the perfect place to rest your head when you’re cozied up together. Her cute, perky breasts, beautiful at any angle; the sight of them brings back memories of how she murmured in pleasure when you held them in your hands. The tapering of her slight torso and flaring of her hips has grown pronounced, and your eyes savor all the fine details of her body- the arc of her ribs, the points of her hip bones, the lean line down her midriff. Lines left by her ill-fitting bra still show red, which reminds you of your task, but you’re not ready to tear your eyes away. Your gaze reaches her nook-- you’ll never get used to the human word for it, “vagina” is so ungainly-- a neat slit below a tuft of silvery-blonde curls. The sensation you now recognize as your bulge stirring within you returns in force. 

You gather your nerve and measuring tape and step forward. Deftly, you loop the tape around her breasts, trying not to cause a mess in your skirt. She giggles involuntarily at your touch. You’ve never been so aware of your own breathing as you take the measurement. You then measure her ribcage just below the breasts. Sure enough, she’s gone up a cup size. Afterwards, waist, and hips. There’s no need to write them down; they’re your new lucky numbers. 

“Are you having fun, Kanaya?” she asks, looking down at you and relaxing, contrapposto. She winks. “It’s alright to touch.” It’s so like her to flirt harder when she knows you’re nervous.

You’re close enough to her skin to feel the warmth of it. Human skin is so wonderfully elastic, so thin and pliant that through it you can see the very fibers of her muscles, her fine bones, the pathways of her blood. Pocketing the measuring tape, you step up onto the platform behind her and press your body to her, kissing her neck and running your hands up her sides. 

Your hands come up and you finally cup and squeeze her breasts, now more and a handful and wonderfully soft. You breathe her scent in deep and feel her shudder. She presses her ass back into you, bringing a hand up to stroke your face and turning to face you. 

You both move to kiss at the same time. Rose hastily reaches to the hem of your shirt and you pull away long enough for her to strip them off of you, on tiptoes. It’s only fair, after all. Pressing her body to yours and invading your lips with her tongue, the overwhelming heat of her sends you reeling. Not breaking the kiss this time, she quickly undoes your skirt, sending it to the floor and leaving you in your underwear, a matching set in beetle green with black lace trim. The room gets a little brighter as more of your luminescent body is revealed.

Rose steps forward and turns, holding on to your hand still, looking you up and down and mimicking your trademark lip bite. Her cute little cheeks are glowing almost as bright as yours and her eyes are half-lidded. She flashes you a coquettish smile. “These are lovely. Think you could make me a set like that?”

“Of Course,” you say hurriedly, desperate to kiss her again. “Just Promise Me You’ll Never Wear Them When I’m Around.”

Rose chuckles, then closes the distance between you again and begins to trace her hands over your body. “That seems unfair. How come you get to wear such pretty lingerie and I have to walk around naked?”

Your breath hitches as her clever fingers explore you. “Who—Hnn— Who Said Anything About Walking?” You grab two handfuls of her butt, pulling her to you. You’d never admit it to Rose, but that line came from a rainbow drinker romance novel you read when you were 5 sweeps old. It actually gets a giggle out of her. 

Acting put-upon, Rose presses the back of her hand to her forehead. “So I’m to be your love-slave? Are you going to chain me to the recuperacoon and partake of me at your leisure?”

Her laughter is contagious, and you begin to as well. “We Don’t Engage In-- We Don’t Have Sex In Recuperacoons. We Use Respite Platforms For That.” 

But then Rose’s laughter trails off, her violet eyes gazing up at you through long lashes. “Show me.”

That was all it took for your bulge to unsheathe in your underwear. Suddenly you’re watching Rose watch you make a mess of yourself, and as her eyes go wide so do yours. Your bulge tents your panties, not yet fully hard but nonetheless straining them to their absolute limits and leaking green preslime down your legs. You’re mortified. Time slows and it’s the longest moment of your life as a hundred versions of her leaving in disgust play out in your imagination. You begin to sputter and apology and turn to leave in shame.

But then. 

“Come over here,” she says, and there’s no longer a choice. You turn back to her, blushing furiously. “This changes nothing. I knew there would be… differences. I even Saw something to this effect one time, though I didn’t realize what it meant at the time.”

Your eyes prickle with tears, of relief or of shame you’re not sure, everything is a mess right now. “But, This Isn’t Normal. I’m Not Normal! You Don’t Have To--”

Rose interrupts you by gripping the waistband of your soiled panties in both hands. “You think I’d fall in love with someone normal?” she says, and pulls them down. 

Your bulge strains against the elastic of your panties, until it finally springs up. Rose was standing quite near you, and your rigid bulge springs up and smacks her belly with a wet thwap, leaving a small splatter of green behind as she pulls back and it bobs obscenely before her. She looks from your bulge to your eyes, then back down. “...Wow, Kanaya.” 

“I’m So Sorry!” you begin, but she shushes you right away. 

“I’ll survive. So, this is unusual for troll girls, I take it?” Gingerly, she runs her fingertips from the folds of your sopping nook up along your length, sending electricity up your spine. “Are they always this…” she bites her lip again.

“I-- I Don’t Know-- Honestly,” you manage between shuddering breaths. One of her little hands keeps stroking you, spreading the pale green slime leaking from your nook along your straining shaft, as the other dips into your nook and begins exploring your aching depths. She hazards a squeeze of the head of your bulge, and you purr into her shoulder. “Rose-- It Feels Good--”

“Forgive me if it takes a little while to get used to this,” she says, though her hand doesn’t stop. Gazing at your sizable bulge, she licks her lips. “Given your… dimensions, that may end up being a double entendre.” 

You’re not sure exactly what she means by that, but one thing is sure. “What You’re Doing Now… Is Just Fine. By All Means Take Your Time.”

“If that’s the case…” Rose stops stroking you off long enough to lead you to her overstuffed knitting chair. It’s just big enough that you can both fit on it if you squeeze. 

Which she continues to do once you’re seated hip to hip, and in the brief moment of respite your head clears enough to realize you’ve been letting her do all the work. As she takes you in hand again, you trail a finger down her soft tummy, past her curls to tease at her folds, gathering up the nectar between her tensed legs and probing her entrance with a fingertip. It comes back soaked, so you add as second finder and begin to stir her up. 

“Oh, yes please,” she keens, bringing a hand up to squeeze her breast. You wish you could reach, but you can’t, so you follow her cue and begin finger your own nook as she strokes your shaft. You can’t really see what you’re doing between your matesprit’s legs, but anytime you find a sensitive spot, Rose helpfully guides you along. “Mmm, Kanaya, please yes fuck,” she gasps, convulsing slightly as your fingers explore deep inside her; Something about the way she curses is just so beautiful to you.

Her pleasure gives you pleasure, and your bulge is now pulsing and twitching, nearly ready to go off. Remembering the hour you spent cleaning up after yourself last time, you rasp, “Wait… I Need A Bucket. Or… Something,” and she smiles. 

“Is that a euphemism… or are you being serious?” she asks. You love how she can still use four-syllable words in the throes of passion. Taking your expression as an answer, she tears herself away and fetches an empty coffee can from the bin beside the coffee machine. She hands it to you, then kneels beside you and grasps your hard bulge in both of her hands. “Prove it,” she says, and begins to squeeze and stroke you harder and faster than before. One of her little hands couldn’t quite make it around your girth, but when she uses both to fuck your bulge you don’t last long. The soft unevenness of her palms and fingers slide up and down the bulging veins along your shaft, the ridge of its head, the almost painfully sensitive spot at the underside of its root— You throw your head back and moan deeply, holding the coffee can in place. The rushing feeling in your hips focuses into a single point behind the base of your bulge as your vision goes white. You can hear Rose laughing in surprise as you finally come, losing burst after burst of thick jade geneslime, your hips flexing towards the ceiling and your bulge jumping with each shot. She keeps pumping away, drawing as much out of you as she can, her little hands no doubt covered in your cum. The thought alone draws another weak burst out of you, but all too soon it’s over and she slows her movements along your oversensitive skin.

“...Good call on the bucket,” she chuckles, holding up the half-full coffee can. “Wouldn’t have wanted to mop this up.” 

Your bones have turned to jiggle cubes, and you sink down into the cushions, in total bliss. Your softened bulge droops to lay on your thigh. That was nothing like doing it yourself. But remembering that you’re not alone, you look up at Rose though half-lidded eyes. “Thank You, Darling… Your Turn?”

“Ohyesplease,” she breathes, putting the coffee can down and sitting next to you again. 

“I Have A Better Idea.” You sink off the recliner so that your back is to its front and tilt your head back on the seat, being careful not to poke any holes with your horns. 

“Oh god yes,” Rose breathes, and straddles your face, facing and supporting herself on the back of the chair. She lowers her hot, musky cunt down to your lips, and you oblige her. With your long, nimble tongue you lick along her lower lips, nibbling here and sucking there, encouraged by the symphony of her pleasured moans, and gasps. You hold on to her ass with both hands and press her sodden folds to your face, penetrating into her with your tongue, tasting her insides, sending her to ecstasy. “Fuck, Kanaya, yes,” she gasps. You alternate between suckling her clit and tongue-fucking her, and before long the corners of her catlike eyes turn up and her fine brow bows as she climaxes in a silent rictus. Her overtaxed body ripples and shakes, but you’re not done. 

You find a spot inside her that makes her mewl with pleasure and attack it ruthlessly. Long licks and short flutters along the softness there cause her breath to ratchet and she’s squeezing the back of the chair so hard you can see every muscle in her arms tense. You bring your hands from her ass to her breasts, squeezing roughly and tweaking her nipples. Her gasps guide you and you seek out those places that make her lose herself. Her eyelids shiver as you take her apart, and she comes again, this time with a high whine.

Unable to continue, she rotates off you and collapses, patting the chair next to her, so you get up and take your place beside her.

“Thank you,” she pants. 

“Thank You First,” you reply, grinning and glowing, and kiss her on the cheek. 

“Thank you twice,” she winks, kissing you back, lightly on the lips. “So, want to make this a regular thing, or…?”

“I Should Like That Very Much. Thank You For Being Open-Minded About My… Bulge.” You chuckle. “That’s The First Time I’ve Said It Out Loud. My Bulge.”

Rose begins to babble, suddenly talkative after sex. “Your bulge is just as lovely as the rest of you. You know, it was only just with you that I even really sat down and thought about my… sexuality, I suppose. I concluded that whatever you want to call it, the only thing that matters is that I love you, Kanaya.”

You put an arm around her, still pretty blissed out. “I’m Not Sure I Totally Understand, But I Love You Too. This Is Going To Be A Long Journey; There’s No Rush If You Need Time To Acquiesce. I Sure Do.” You kiss her sweetly and rest your head on her shoulder.

She continues, “So even if I thought earlier that loving you meant I was a lesbian, I suppose that doesn’t mean I have to be limited to a certain view of what lesbians typically partake of vis a vis female parts and not male parts…Does that make sense? I admit it was a shock, but I’m already warming up to the idea. I must say though, I’m a bit reluctant to rush right to penetrative sex. It’s… well, compared to a typical human penis, your bulge is… well, it could be quite painful if we’re not careful…” 

You want to hang on her every word, but as she continues, you feel your eyelids grow heavy and before long you doze off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know in the comments what you'd like me to cover in Selected Topics in Advanced Rap Studies


	4. Chapter 4

Your name is Rose Lalonde and you can hear Dave’s raps before you even enter the activity room. He’s by himself today, which is rare. He’s got one earphone cup on and one off, andbefore him sits a jewel-encrusted golden goblet of apple juice.

“...call the bomb squad but there’s no stopping this/getting straight to the point like a rhinoceros/ and I’ll plant one on your chin like a botanist/my lyrical superiority is obvious…/ ” Dave trails off and nods up as you as you walk in. “Yo Rose. Heard your girlfriend’s got a dick,” he says.

Fuck. “Wherever did you hear that?” you ask, smiling icily and bracing yourself for an unpleasant conversation.

“Vriska, natch’.”

Figures. “Loves to hear herself talk, that one. How would she know, I wonder?”

Dave shrugs. “Maybe it’s not a secret? Definitely not one anymore. Personally, I’m happy for you. If you’re gonna date a lite brite you might as well get pegged, I always say.”

“You’ve never once said that. And though my girlfriend’s importune peculiarity is an immutable fact you’ve elected to state for the record, that doesn’t mean ‘pegging’ is what’s taking place here. And also… I’m not sure you’re even using that word right.”

Dave smirks. “Dude, you’re so gay. Just accept the glowing alien dong, you know you want to.” There’s no malice, but he definitely enjoys the irony of the situation. “That’s some 45-watt shit.”

“Perhaps you’re projecting? You and Karkat have been awfully close lately,” you counter. 

“What, no. We’re just bros. Rap bros. Chuck D and Flavor Flav. It’s pale as Hank Hill’s non-ass,” he says. “For all I know he’s got a troll vag packed in those awkwardly tall jeans Kanaya made for him.”

Now it’s your turn to smirk at him. “The homie doth protest too much, methinks. Is that what you’d prefer? For him to have a vagina?”

“Rose we’re getting off topic. We were talking about your girlfriend’s downstairs mix-up, not my one hundred percent hetero, practically fraternal relationship with Karkat.”

Your eyes narrow. “So this is about your feelings for your brother. Now we’re making progress. Shall I fetch my notebook?”

“Goddammit Rose, that’s the opposite of what ‘fraternal relationship’ means. It’s like, just dudes in visors and polo shirts playing frisbee and shit.”

“I’ve seen an educational short film or two online that would suggest otherwise.” 

“Didn’t have you pegged as the type to watch gay porn.”

“There’s that word again.” 

“Fine, you win this one. So, can we get down to brass fucking tacks and have a nice long conversation about your matesprit’s briefs weasel?”

That one gets you a little. You rise to his bait. “Her trouser schnauzer?”

“Her chonies pony.”

“Not familiar with that one. Her garters snake?”

“Her knickers prick?”

“Fine, we can talk about my lovely girlfriend’s boyshorts sword if you truly insist.”

“Rose, I truly insist that we weigh the merits of your one true love’s bikini weenie.”

You’re both laughing at this point. You’re glad to have someone like Dave around to keep this whole experience from feeling too normal.

“I admit I was surprised. I never really thought of myself as one thing or another back… back on Earth. Certainly not straight or gay or bi or something else with a nice, tidy label. I mean, I might have been… all of them at once, or at least each one sometimes? All I knew was that I was something different than anything else. It’s hard to be something there’s not a word for.”

Fortunately, Dave recognizes now’s not the time to crack jokes. “When did you know?”

You chuckle, settling into your seat. “From the start. I mean, when I started dating Kanaya, I thought that basically solved it, that it meant I like girls period. But I should have realized that my sexuality was more in line with a troll’s than a human’s from the beginning. No single target, no gender bias, no real limits, you know?”

Dave shakes his head. “Nah. I mean, yeah, I see what you’re saying, but for me it was like, I was constantly bein’ told about what ‘real men’ do, from rap, or movies, or Bro, and I always knew that wasn’t me, but I just figured it was… a me problem. Sorry if this is a fucked up thing to say but I think it’s harder for boys to get away with being ‘different’ than it is for girls. Like, we have some things in common, but I got no sudden clarity when I went god tier, and I sure didn’t have shit figured out beforehand. I appreciate the commiseration but I think I’m just fucked up in a whole different way.”

“Don’t say that,” you say, offering a hand. He looks at it. 

Then takes it. “Some heroes we make, huh? Where’s John when you need him?”

“Heroes are allowed to be complicated, Dave. But yes, sweet, simple John, with his idyllic adolescence and his crush on Liv Tyler... I had one too, you know.”

“What, cause of Armageddon?” Dave’s lip curls in a sympathetic half-smile.

“Lord of the Rings. Arwen. The pointy ears did it for me.” 

“And now?”

“They still do.” You squeeze his hand, and you separate. “Could have done without the huge ‘glowing alien dong,’ though.

Dave scoffs. “Huge?”

You hold your palms about yea far apart and raise your eyebrows. 

Dave whistles. “I take it back. That’s no 45-watt, that’s a goddamn fluorescent tube. And have you…?” 

“Not yet. Just third inning so far.” 

“Which inning is that? Is that the one with penalty kicks or the field goals?”

“I’m not sure but there was one hell of a shootout.” 

Dave laughs. “Fuck… too bad all the sports ended before we had the chance to watch any of them.”

You’re still chuckling slightly as you head to Kanaya’s block. You don’t think you’ve ever had a boring conversation with Dave, but that might be the first time you’ve talked so unguardedly. It seems being surrounded by friends, and away from the toxic environment in which he was raised, has been doing Dave a lot of good. And how have you changed in a year? One thing’s for certain; being in love is simply the best thing that’s ever happened to you. And so you’re humming to yourself-- humming!-- as you open Kanaya’s door.

Your name is Kanaya Maryam and you’re going to get to the bottom of this. You have so many unanswered questions and so few resources that you’re willing to take any lead you’ve got. Unfortunately, they’ve been narrowed down to one: the only historical text anyone brought with them on this meteor, the diary of Vriska’s ancestor. At least, you hope she thought to bring it with her.

You knock on her door, and are simultaneously surprised and unsurprised when she opens it wearing nothing but a sports bra and tight workout shorts, chiseled body glistening with a sheen of sweat. “Vriska,” you say.

“Oh ho, if it isn’t Fussyfangs herself! Tear yourself away from your human squeeeeeeeeze long enough to pay lil’ ol’ me a visit?” she says, flashing you a fangy grin. “You caught me in the middle of a workout, hope you don’t mind if I finish first?” she winks, and not waiting for your response, she beckons you into her room. It smells… well, it smells like Vriska, only stronger.

“Please Don’t Make This Even More Difficult For Me. I’ve Been Undergoing Some… Changes Lately, And I Was Hoping You Might Be Able To Help Me Understand Them. It’s— A Sensitive Issue.” You say, trying as hard as you can not to rise to her b8. You mean bait. Vriska has begun a set of push-ups, and you try not to stare at her muscular ass, but quickly fail.

“What- kind- of change -es?” she grunts, as she racks up rep after rep, cobalt beads of sweat rising from her taut carapace. Her defined triceps and deltoids bulge with each dip, and the muscles of her back roll and flex. You can feel a familiar rushing sensation in your loins.

“I’d Prefer Not To Go Into Specifics. I Know You’re A Collector Of Historic Texts, I Was Just Wondering If Any Of The Ones You Keep Pertain To… Jadebloods. And Their… Properties.” You’re blushing pretty hard now.

Vriska rolls over on her back and begins a set of two-wheel device crunches most likely, you suspect, just to show her abs off to you. And Goddammit, they are are amazing, but you make a point to roll your eyes at her when she glances up to see if you’re looking. “You- want to- read my- ancestor’s- diary? That’s what- you’re- referring- to, right?”

“Well, Yes, I Suppose It Is,” you say. “I Was Hoping It Might Shed Some Light On My Condition.”

From her prone position, in a single fluid motion she whips herself upright. Suddenly standing before you, grinning cockily, she deliberately eyes you up and down and says, “Again? Always with the light, Kanaya! What’s this reeeeeeeeally about?”

Trying your hardest to keep your gaze level, you reply “What Do You Think It’s About? Rose, Of Course.”

This seems to take the wind out of her sails a bit. She frowns, but nods. “Atta girl.” She walks over to the row of books on her desk, fetches one, and returns with it. “Sure, you can 8orrow Mindfang’s diary. 8ut if it comes 8ack with even one green stain on it—”

Grabbing the proffered book and darting backwards, you quickly sputter “Yes Thank You Vriska, I’ll Be Careful—I Mean, I’ll Take Good Care Of Your Book, Thank You!” and shut the door. You can just make out her muffled laughter. 

**~ On the 15th 8ilunar perigee of the 2nd dim season's equinox~ **

At last the slave and I are alone. While I relish any chance to cause my kismesis suffering, nothing is so sweet as pleasure for pleasure’s sake. And my new Jade promises to 8e pleasure incarn8, for she is a jewel among jewels. She is a creature of 8eauty and strength, and the scars on her skin tell a tale of long struggle. I suspect she may 8e the very jade ultim8tely responsi8le for the sufferer’s re8ellion, and the thought of tasting such for8idden fruit gives me palpit8tions. I 8lur her will just enough to cause her reluctance to a88, and her 8oldness to grow. She 8egins to cast off her petticoat, her fangs ni88ling her lip 8ashfully. I can feel myself growing redder for her 8y the min8 as the 8indings of her corset come loose, string 8y string. As each inch of revealed skin 8looms from her thread8are ro8es, I can feel my desire grow.

When her 8ody is 8ared to me 8ut for a pair of 8loomers, I have her finish the jo8 she started last time. She makes quick work of my jacket, her long, nim8le fingers clearly experi8nced with this sort of thing. 8efore my leggings are even off, though, her caste is revealed to me in the most un8elieva8le turn of events. From her 8loomers extends the evidence of her rarest of 8lood—the Maryam caste, those 8reeders said to 8e selected for rearing 8y the mother gru8 lusii themselves. I h8dn’t dared to hope that I’d ever meet one, though I’d 8e lying if I said I’d never fantasized. And 8y the looks of things, even my fantasies hadn’t measured up.

Face burning bright green, you slam the journal shut. Can this be real? Is this merely highblood hyperbole, or is your physiology really some bizarre genetic twist of f8? Er, Fate? Your pulse pounds as you reopen the book and continue reading.

I remove my gloves and take her 8ulge in my hand, testing its size and w8. She seems to have 8een afraid of my reaction, 8ut the fear has 8een replaced 8y relief when she sees how pleased I am 8y the revel8tion. I stroke and caress my new pet to full attention. Her endowment puts most high8loods to shame, and for a lark I tell her as much, if only to enjoy her re8ction. Her em8arrassment is del8ghtful, though not nearly as del8ghtful as her moans of pleasure are. I delay my gratific8tion for as long as I can, 8ut 8efore long the rest of my clothes are on the deck and my new favorite lays 8efore me on a pile of cushions, her 8ulge slick and stick-straight, her eyes full of lust. I’ve left her mind. She wants this as much as I do. 

I descend onto her, sinking slowly down, shuddering as I take all that I can of her. There’s still some left, 8ut those aware of my repu8tion know I like a challenge. We 8oth gasp in relief and pleasure as our 8odies 8ecome one, and for a moment I’m still. She feels un8elieva8ly good inside me, as though she was hatched just to pleasure me. The jade’s hands come to my hips, merely resting, the slight warmth of them com8ined with the way she g8zes up at me eliciting a flush of affection in my pusher. She could very well 8e the one.

I 8egin to roll my hips, and I feel her fingers squeeze as she draws in a shuddering 8reath. I work more and more of her thick prod into my aching nook, inch 8y thro88ing inch, until the last of her slides inside me and I sigh in relief. I 8egin to fuck her in earnest, slapping my hips down onto hers and savoring the feeling of her long 8ulge pro8ing the entrance to my gene8ladder. I’ve never had a lover capa8le of filling me so fully, or so pleasura8ly. Her eyelids flutter and she 8ites her lip, only reminding me of those lovely f8ngs, and I’m suddenly overcome 8y the desire to kiss her. It’s time to put her skills to the test.

Yourealize you’re biting your lip as well, images of your ancestor and Vriska’s locked in embrace playing across your thinkpan. The images are so evocative it’s impossible not to imagine yourself there, on your back with a strong, beautiful blueblood over you, gazing down at you like you’re a steak dinner… Your old rainbow drinker fantasies well up, the fantasy of being favorite prey. Was Mindfang really the monster the history texts paint her as? Or was she just… Vriska, but older? This journal would suggest the latter. You’re struck with a thought. Vriska must have read this very entry, probably multiple times. Does she think about you when she reads it? Does she…?

Suddenly, you imagine Vriska, jeans around her ankles, fingers in her leaking cobalt nook, biting down on the hem of her pulled-up shirt, bicep bulging as she squeezes a small rumble sphere, abs flexing in orgasm. The thought alone causes your nook to throb. Unable to stop yourself, you slide a hand into your skirt and press against your panties where you suddenly feel an aching need. Swallowing, you keep reading. 

I lean 8ack on my knees, drawing her up to hers, and without words we wrap our arms around each other. She seems more than happy to take over the role of facilit8or, and she presses her warm, strong 8ody to mine, her 8ig, soft rum8le spheres squeezed against my hard chest. I’ve always appreci8ted a nice pair of spheres, especially 8ecause my own are nothing to write a long, explic8 journal entry a8out. The way her voluptuous 8ody molds to my muscle8ound frame demonstr8s the difference 8etween us, and how well we compl8 each other. Ironically, her hardness deep inside me is turning my muscles to mush.

Face to face, we 8egin to kiss deeply as we find a rhythm in which to crash our 8odies together like the very w8ves that move 8eneath us, each trough and crest 8ringing us closer to shore, a priv8 paradise. I reach it first, my 8ody tensing and rippling around her, and I can tell she’s not far 8ehind. I reach for the pail and arrange it 8eneath me just in time for her sharp fangs to grimace in ecstasy, and she 8egins to pump me full, fuller than I’ve ever 8een. The overflow splashes out noisily, the sound so delightfully de8ased, our material mixing to create a lovely seawater shade. We hold each other close, gasping and grasping, kissing and cursing, as our 8reathing slows. We look each other in the eyes and laugh weakly. 

There’s more but you can’t even focus. You’re stroking yourself with all your strength now, bucket between your knees, vision blurry with pleasure. “Vr- Vr-” you chirp, fantasies of Vriska’s broad, brawny frame pressed into your body, her calloused hands mauling your spheres, the hardness of her hips, the softness of her nook. Lines from the journal echo in your head. Her voluptuous 8ody molds to my firm, muscle8ound frame... she begins to pump me full, fuller than I’ve ever 8een. You want to feel her. You want to _fill_ her. “Vriskaaaaah” you moan as you begin to spray your release, that echoing splatter so spine-tinglingly lewd, and you shudder as you pump yourself until you can no longer continue. You gasp for breath, looking from the bucket to the journal. No stains. Got away with it clean.

But then. 

You hear a sob from your doorway. “Kah-- Kanaya…” Backlit in the open doorway stands Rose, face obscured by shadows but for the glint of her tears. And then she’s gone. 


	5. Chapter 5

Your name is Terezi Pyrope and you’re sure about this. You’re unbeatable. You’re invincible. You’re undefeatable. You’ve got Australia, bitch.

You’re playing a board game with Karkat and Vriska, and you can see why Dave advised you not to bother alchemizing this particular one. No one is having a good time. No one except the Mayor, who wanted to be included, so you let him arrange chess pieces around the board and move them around whenever and wherever he wants. It doesn’t affect anything, and he’s having the time of his life.

Karkat has South America, and he and Vriska are duking it out across North America and Africa, though it’s obvious Karkat isn’t going to last long when Vriska keeps rolling sixes. Who names these places, anyway? They all sound ridiculous. Anyway, no number of lucky rolls can overcome your intuition; after thinking through a few possible scenarios, you decided to exploit the game’s biggest design flaw, which lined up nicely with Vriska’s biggest personality flaw: Hubris. Or, greed. Or, ambition? Ok, one of her top three biggest flaws. Of course she wanted to conquer Asia from the outset, and she really thought she could. But once you won the Australian bloc and arranged a huge force in Siam as a stopper, it was no longer possible for her to get Asia’s sizable unit bonus, while you rack up two extra pieces every turn. As she continues to attack you, you continue to win battles and trade in cards for bonus troops. It’s only a matter of time now. You grin in anticipation of your global conquest. OK. Maybe you’re having a good time too.

But your grin turns to a question noodle as Rose bursts through the door.

“VRISKA!”

All four of you turn to her. Her eyes smell swollen with tears and burning with rage at the same time. She barely regards the rest of you as she glares towards Vriska. “I thought you were going to leave us alone!”

Vriska meets her gaze, a bit bewildered, and then shakes her shaggy head, raising a hand palm-up. “I have no idea what you’re talking a8out, Lalonde.”

“Kanaya—she—you!” Rose is apoplectic. You’ve never smelled her like this. “Did you use your fucked-up mind powers on her, you bitch?”

Karkat clears his throat. “BEFORE WE GO LOBBING BLAME GRENADES, WHY DON’T YOU TELL US WHAT’S GOING ON.”

Rose takes a breath and wipes her face with both hands, smearing her mascara, making her eyes messy blobs of back. “It seems that Vriska has… Meddled in Kanaya’s and my relationship.” She looks directly at Vriska, probably.

You turn to Vriska quizzically. “VR1SK4? WH4T D1D YOU DO?”

“8ullshit! I haven’t controlled anyone in forever, plus I doubt it would even work on Kanaya! All I did was give her my ancestor’s damn journal when she asked for it. I’ll admit there’s some juicy stuff in there, 8ut that doesn’t make it a solicit8tion. What quadrant are we even talking a8out here?”

Rose is shivering in rage as she utters, “Red.”

Vriska heaves a dramatic shrug. “She just wanted to see if it said anything about jadeblood junk. Things got pretty hot and heavy 8etween our ancestors 8ack on Old Alternia, I gather.”

Karkat doesn’t know who to look at. “WAIT, YOU GAVE KANAYA A SMUT BOOK ABOUT YOUR ANCESTORS HOOKING UP?”

“Seadweller slang aside, so what?” Vriska continues to be cavalier.

“DIDN’T YOU REALIZE HOW SHE MIGHT HAVE TAKEN THAT? AND… WHAT DO YOU MEAN, JADEBLOOD JUNK?”

“How she took it is her 8usiness. As for--”

Rose snaps, “Don’t you think it’s my business too, even a little?”

You interject. You have a feeling Vriska knew exactly what she was doing when she handed off that journal. “VR1SK4, YOU KNOW HOW SH3 USED TO F33L 4BOUT YOU. 1F YOU W4NT TO WORK YOUR WAY B4CK 1NTO K4NAY4’S QU4DR4NTS NOW, YOU’R3 GOING TO H4V3 TO CL34R 1T WITH ROS3 F1RST.”

Vriska turns to Karkat for a counterpoint, but he’s in agreement with you. “SHE WAS REALLY INTO YOU, BEFORE SGRUB. PRETTY FUCKED UP YOU’RE ONLY HITTING ON HER AGAIN NOW THAT WE’RE THE ONLY TROLLS LEFT. EVEN WORSE IF IT’S BECAUSE SHE’S WITH SOMEONE ELSE.”

Rose’s eyes flash, points of violet through the jet-black blur. “So that’s it. When she was easy pickings, you didn’t want her. Now that she’s something for you to steal…”

Vriska clenches her fangs. “Errrrrrrrrgh! You’re all reading me totally wrong! I’m not hitting on her, It’s just a little… playful 8anter! You all know how 8ashful and fun to tease she is, I can’t help myself!”

Rose replies. “Helping yourself is literally the only thing you ever do. But helping yourself to my matesprit is a bridge too far, even for you.”

Upon being confronted, Vriska is defiant. “8efore you excori8 me, has it occurred to you that may8e the way she feels about you is different than matespritship? May8e she wants you to be her girlfriend and me to 8e her matesprit. May8e she wants more that whatever you’ve been giving her!”

Rose’s eyes are slits just wide enough for you to smell the spades through. “Maybe you should go fuck yourself.”

But Karkat is stroking his chin. “HMM. MAYBE…”

You glare in his direction. “M4YB3 SHUT TH3 FUCK UP K4RKL3S?”

He shoots you a look, and then assumes a conciliatory stance towards Rose, both palms up. “FUCKING MAYBE. MAYBE… MAYBE THERE’S SOMETHING TO WHAT VRISKA IS SAYING.”

Vriska is jubilant. “Yeah! I’m not the one 8eing unreasona8le here!”

Karkat resumes. “NO, SHUT UP, THIS IS ALL PRETTY UNREASONABLE, AND YOU’RE A HEINOUS BITCH AND ALWAYS HAVE BEEN. BUT HEAR ME OUT, ROSE. MAYBE GIRLFRIENDS ARE LIKE… A FIFTH QUADRANT?”

Everyone is silent for a second. The Mayor knocks all your pieces off Siam and puts a bishop down on it, then beams up at you. You shoosh him quickly.

Taking the silence of the room at large as a cue, Karkat continues. “ROSE, IF YOU THOUGHT OF THEM AS TWO DIFFERENT THINGS, WOULD YOU SAY YOU AND KANAYA ARE MORE LIKE TROLL MATESPRITS OR MORE LIKE HUMAN GIRLFRIENDS?”

Rose seems to consider this, which is charitable. More charitable than you ever gave her credit for. She’s always struck you as kind of snooty.

“…Girlfriends. I kind of assumed that you and she were pale?”

Karkat shakes his head. “NOT OFFICIALLY.”

Rose continues, “But now that you put it like that, I suppose I was her only… I supposed she didn’t have any traditional quadrants filled at all?”

Karkat contemplates this. “AND IT’S PRETTY HARD TO NOT HAVE ANY QUADRANTS FILLED. ESPECIALLY FOR A SOCIAL COCOON FLAPPER LIKE HER.”

Vriska chimes in, “You know, Lalonde, she loves you a lot. Not that I really get it or wh8tever, but man, she never shuts up about you. It’s like, we get it! You have a human girlfriend, it’s gr8! You’re in ‘love!’ Fuckin’… h8ppy for you!”

You nod. “1 H4V3 TO 4GR33. YOU R34LLY 4R3 4LL SH3 T4LKS 4BOUT.”

Rose seems to have calmed down a bit. “So, what… I have to share her with Vriska? Or…”

For the first time in half a sweep, you know what to do. You stand and close the space between you and Rose. “ROS3, W3’R3 4LL L34RN1NG TH1S STUFF TOG3TH3R. 1 KNOW YOU T3ND TO T4K3 TH1NGS L1K3 TH1S P3RSON4LLY, BUT NOT KNOW1NG SOM3TH1NG YOU COULDN’T POSS1BLY KNOW 1N TH3 F1RST PL4C3 DO3SN’T R3FL3CT B4DLY ON YOU! 4LL TH4T M4TT3RS 1S TH4T YOU’R3 W1LL1NG TO L34RN.”

Your name is Rose Lalonde, and you’re not sure about this. But Terezi’s words help you feel a bit better.

Or at least, intellectually you understand the situation a bit better, sluggish emotions notwithstanding. Your girlfriend loves you, but she’s flushed for another girl. They’re two different things. It takes more than just sunshine for a flower to bloom. You just hope that you are Kanaya’s sun in this analogy. The thought that Vriska might be… it turns your stomach.

You look around. Terezi, small and fierce before you. You always thought you were the smart one, until you met her. Karkat, blushing a bit and visibly thinking hard. He just wants to help everyone, and he’ll kill himself to do it. And at the end of the day, it’s hard to be totally miserable when the Mayor’s around.

But Vriska. Not a shred of regret or remorse. Defiant until the end, the utter bitch. She clearly feels exonerated, because she’s already looking back to the board game. Is that… are they playing Risk?

“Vriska, can we talk in private for a moment?” you ask. She turns and gets up, swaggers to you, thumbs in her beltloops. She follows you out into the hallway.

“You know, Lalonde, you sure ask a lot from people,” she huffs. She leans against the steel wall with one foot crossed over the other like a cowboy, crossing her arms. You don’t glance at her biceps. Really, you don’t.

“I have high standards for my friends. I believe the feeling’s mutual?” your words drip venom.

She rolls her eyes. “8ORING! Let’s hurry this part along and get to the other thing we have in common!”

“I think this is where I’m supposed to say something like, ‘stay away from my girlfriend,’ threaten you, rattle a saber. But really I just want for Kanaya to be happy. If that means we have to… take turns, we can… come to an arrangement.”

“I’ve never 8een good at w8ing,” she says, eyeing you just like she did that day when you asked Kanaya out for the first time. “8ut I don’t think that’s strictly necessary.” She cocks her head and flashes you a half-grin, exposing her sharp, shiny fangs.

You tense up. “You’re not suggesting…?!” Your face reddens as the implication hits you.

In a fluid motion, Vriska backs you against the wall, her bulging arms to either side of you. “I’ve never 8een good at sharing either, 8ut hey. It would make her twice as happy right? And then no one has to settle.” She’s close enough that you can feel her breath, and unlike the last time she doesn’t pull away. There’s no denying Kanaya would be pleased with the arrangement, and there’s no denying that Vriska is irreconcilably gorgeous. It’s just that every time she opens her mouth she says something that pisses you off.

Your mouth twists in lust and disgust as she looks down at you with those predatory, mismatched eyes, her long snarls of hair falling about her peaked shoulders. Your heartbeat pounds in your chest but your eyes are cold steel. You kind of want to fingerfuck her until she’s a whimpering mess, do something about that pride. You kind of want to squeeze her head between your thighs while she pays you back. You get the sense that you’re starting to understand blackrom.

Your eyes narrow to slits. “…If you hurt her…”

But Vriska pulls away and begins sauntering back to the game room. “Then I’ll throw myself off the meteor.” She winks at you over her broad shoulder. “Let me know when it’s time for our d8!”

Fuck. She’s hot.

You make your way back to Kanaya’s room to find the door closed. You knock gingerly and say, “Dear? Are you there?”

From inside, Kanaya croaks “Rose I’m Sorry, But May I Please Be Alone?”

It sounds like she’s been crying. You thought she might be doing this. She always beats herself up. And hell, you’d do the same thing. But being alone is the worst thing for her right now. “I’m not mad at you. I… I just spoke with Vriska.”

You hear footsteps from inside. Kanaya opens the heavy steel door, dressed in her pajamas. Her eyes are puffy and there are translucent greenish smears on her cheeks. She looks down and to the side, unable to make eye contact. “You Should Be Mad At Me. I Deserve It, After All. I Violated Our Relationship.” She’s biting her lip in the most pitiful way, and you feel a stab of affection.

You take her hand. “I can be a little mad, if that would make you feel better?”

She half-smiles and sniffs. “I Think It Might. Would You Like To Come In?”

You follow Kanaya into her room. She recently redecorated it for spring in the traditional East Alternain style, leading to a week of intense cultural and linguistic confusion for you both as she tried to learn the names of all of her new design components. You’ve always been good with words, but Troll Japanese just sounds a little too silly to take seriously. You’ve ended up with garbled understanding of her garbled understanding, making each conversation on the subject a game of Electric Talk. You mean telephone.

You remove your blue slip-ons at the Mystery Concourse and step up onto the Strawtangle floor. You haven’t been in Kanaya’s room too much, and since the last time you were in here her collection of artifacts has grown. In the center of the room there’s a Squatsquare with cushions around it and a bowl of fruit and snacks in the middle. You sit on a firm cushion and look around at the decorations. No shitty anime swords, but there’s a zigzagging Stylewall depicting a pure white tiger lusus beside her wardobifier, and along the wall there’s a tall shelf holding several Potted Smalltrees. You recognize a pine, a maple, and even a cherry, blooming with numerous little pink flowers. Hanging on prominent display is a silk Dressrobe she’s in the process of hand-dying.

“You’re really getting into this East Alternian thing, aren’t you?” you say, careful not to sound judgmental. The last thing she needs is snarky horseshit right now.

She nods, seemingly happy at the chance for small talk. “I Chose East Alternia On A Whim At First, But Yes, I’ve Begun To Really Enjoy The Tiny Gardening And Textile Arts. They’re Labor-Intensive, But Quite Rewarding. I Think I’ll Keep This Design For The Summer As Well, But After That… Human France?”

“Human France?” you ask wryly. “Not ‘Troll France?’” You should never have shown her Amelie.

“Don’t Be Silly, ‘Troll France’ Is Just Called France.” She chuckles a bit, and seeing her smile gives you strength. She wipes her cheeks dry with a handkerchief. “So, Yes, You… Mentioned Speaking To Vriska.”

You realize you’re slumping and sit up straight. You consider your words carefully. “Yes, after… earlier, I was quite distraught. In my mind, the only explanation was that Vriska had done something to you, gotten inside your mind somehow. I admit my Light powers failed me in the moment, and I still don’t really know how it works with her. I went to confront her, and fortunately Karkat and Terezi were there. I think if it had been just us it would have come to blows, but cooler heads prevailed.” Kanaya is blushing as she takes this in. Is she fantasizing about you and Vriska fighting? About… ‘auspisticing’ between you? You shake your head and continue. “The long and short of it is this: Karkat suggested that me trying to be all of your quadrants at once is unfair to you, and I gather quite unnatural too. So… If you want to be matesprits with Vriska, that’s OK. It’s OK with her too, by the way. I’ll still be your girlfriend, and we’ll… Vriska and I will… learn to get along. Eventually.”

This is A Lot for Kanaya. “…Thank You, Rose. You Know I Love You, Right?” She holds a hand out.

You take it and squeeze. “I love you too. And Lord knows I’m starting to hate her pretty good,” you smile, “What do you say? Think you can keep us from tearing each other apart?”

Kanaya nods, blushing. “It’s Rare To Auspistice Between Those In Your Other Quadrants, But Not Altogether Unheard Of.”

You sigh. “So… I gather there’s history between the two of you?”

Kanaya bites her lip. “Vriska And I Have… A Lot Of History, Yes. I Don’t Have The Same Schoolpupa Crush On Her That I Used To, But If Anything, Ever Since I Fell In Love With You, My Feelings For Her Are Even Deeper Than Before. She’s—She’s The Opposite Of You In Almost Every Way. What I Love About You, I Miss About Her.” With her other hand, she strokes your forearm, sending a shiver down your spine. “Even Your Appearance Is So Different. Your Arms Are Smooth And Slender, Ever So Graceful In Their Movements. Hers Are—”

You smile and shut your eyes. “Mmmm, you don’t have to sell me on her arms. But I get what you’re saying. You like both, right? And having to choose is just…”

“Not The Done Thing Where We’re From. So The More I Love You—Your Kindness, Your Wit, Your Cute Little Nose—The More I Long For Her Crudeness, Her Brashness, Her Sharp Fangs.” She finishes, then smiles at you and sighs. “Aliens, Am I Right?”

You’re fascinated by this. There’s a logic to it. Why is this kind of arrangement so rare in humans? You rise to leave. “…I’m starting to look forward to this. I’m ready whenever you are, my love,” and slipping your shoes back on at the Obfuscation Porch or whatever this little area is called, you head back to your room, suddenly sure about this.


	6. Chapter 6

Your name is Kanaya Maryam and your girlfriend and matesprit hate each other. And worst part is, you love it. You’re gray as slate for these two, each of whom you’re so red for in such different ways. Your passion for Rose burns like a wildfire; your desire for Vriska is as focused and sharp as a laser. Your desire to mediate their mutual animosity rounds out your feelings and raises them not a degree but an order of magnitude. As the three of you sit in your block, seiza around your low table, the pressure in the room is driving you wild.

Rose takes a sip. “Kanaya, this tea is lovely. Rooibos?”

“Yes, It… It Is,” you say, glancing between her and Vriska. “Rooibos.”

Vriska hasn’t picked hers up yet. She gives you a tight-lipped smile and says, “Too hot.”

Not looking up from her mug, Rose quips, “Why don’t you try blowing on it.”

Vriska snaps, “Why don’t you try 8lowing—”

But you interrupt. “I Have An Idea! Why Don’t We Play A Game! Err… Mario Kart?” Kanaya Maryam, ace of clubs.

Rose’s eyes shine. “Only if you’re ready to have your carcass devastated as though an extinction-event-class asteroid landed directly between your lookstubs.”

You level your gaze. “Oh My! Such Bravado From One Destined To Be Served A Buffet Of Losses Like A Marooned Loser Who Washed Up On Butler Island On Discount Defeat Day.”

Vriska smirks. “I’ll give it a shot.”

Rose turns to her. “You will?”

You go to fetch Dave’s atomic purple N64 from the game room. At first, you’re afraid to leave the two of them together, but you’re going to have to get used to the idea, you suppose. When you get back, they’ve brought some cushions over and are sitting in front of the old-fashioned wood-paneled CRT television you alchemized, the kind with actual dials. No one is bleeding, which you take as a good sign—though, that avenue might be worth exploring later, you think hungrily. There’s an empty cushion between them that you assume is for you. You hook up the garish console and pass out controllers, insert the cartridge, flip on the power switch. The game begins.

3\. 2. 1. Vriska, playing as Bowser, blasts off with a rocket start as you and Rose spin out off the line. She’s gone from your screen in no time. You look from the TV to the ceruleanblood beside you. Pointed tongue sticking out from her lips, her face is a mask of perfect concentration. Unable to sit still, she whips the controller to and fro, bouncing in her seat. She’s lapped you both in no time and is on her third lap by the time you finish your first. As she blazes across the line, you hear the finishing whistle for the first time.

“Whoooooooo! Th8 was fun!” she crows, bouncing in her seat. “I like this g8me!”

Rose, nowhere near finishing, nonetheless glares at Vriska. “How about we make the next race interesting?”

Vriska looks down at Rose from the corner of her glasses. “Oh? What did you h8ve in mind?”

“Winner of the next one gets to… kiss Kanaya.” She glances at you for approval, and you nod.

Vriska grins, every fang gleaming in the light of the CRT. “You’re on like Donkey Kong.” And selecting the ape in question, she squares her shoulders and grips her controller tightly.

Rose follows suit, playing as Princess Peach. 150CC. Bowser’s Castle. You go to pick up your controller, but they both turn to you and shake their heads.

3\. 2. 1. Once again, Vriska boosts off the line, but at least this time Rose doesn’t spin out. She’s not joking around this time. She tries her best, but she still swerves onto the grass, falls in the lava, gets pummeled mercilessly by enemies. Vriska drifts around every corner and dodges every obstacle, far ahead of the fray. It doesn’t take her long to clear the stage with Rose far behind.

She spikes her controller down and crows victoriously. You feel yourself flush in expectation. Fixing Rose in her sights, she smirks, “Sorry, Lalonde, but your princess is in another castle!” then she turns her half-lidded gaze to you. “Hey there fussyfangs.”

Your nutrition satchel is doing flips. You know this is all in good fun, but your flushcrush is advancing on you and licking her chops like a starved cholarbear. Literally, she’s even on all fours. Fuck, you’re so turned on.

As Rose looks on in frustration and desire, lips pursed in frustration and violet eyes open wide, Vriska practically crawls on top of you. “We should have done this a long time ago,” she says, her cocky smile offset by the color on her cheeks. Her face is so close.

“I—I Wanted To. But You…” you begin, but she silences you with a kiss, her cool lips pressing to yours. Your eyes open wide and then flutter shut. Your body goes soft, and you fear your arms holding you up will give out any moment. You must be glowing. It sure feels like you’re glowing.

“That’s 8ncient history now,” she breathes, as she kisses you over and over, pressing closer and closer, her hair falling about your chest and shoulders. She wraps one of those irresistible arms around you and lowers you to the Strawtangle floor, and your suddenly-free hands grab for anything they can reach. You want to feel all of her.

“I think that’s enough. It’s my turn.” you hear Rose say. Vriska grumbles but pulls off you. Rose is clearly affected by what she’s been watching; You can see the points of her nipples through her god-tier robe.

“It Is Your Turn,” you say, “To Kiss Vriska.” Both of your lovers turn to you, then regard each other. “I’m Not The Prize Here, And There Are No Winners Or Losers.”

Vriska grins, exposing her fangs as her posture relaxes. “You know, Lalonde, I’ve always thought you were cute… No reason we can’t enjoy this.”

Rose huffs. “Anything to make Kanaya happy.” But seeing your Look, she reconsiders. “…Take your goddamn shirt off already.”

Vriska obliges, peeling off her black T-shirt, leaving her in just a heathered-grey sports bra. Rose gazes appreciatively at her bulky shoulders and the chest muscles beneath her round little rumble spheres. She grumbles, “Fuck… why’d you have to be hot?”

Vriska grins ear to ear. “Come here,” she leans back into your lap, her abs rippling _just so _as she settles herself against you and waits for Rose to make her own way over. “Lose the robes.”

Rose pulls her robe up and off. To your delight, she’s not wearing anything underneath. Vriska whistles as she takes in the sight of Rose’s lean body, because of course she does. Folding her thin legs under her, Rose sits to Vriska’s side and leans over her. She tucks a lock of golden hair behind a round little ear, whispers “Fuck you,” and lowers her lips to Vriska’s. Not waiting, Vriska kisses her with vigor from the outset. In moments their arms are around each other and they’re nearly crushing you as each of them struggles for control of the kiss, and your bulge would unsheathe at the sight if someone’s elbow wasn’t accidentally jabbing your acid tract.

Your girlfriend and matesprit are exchanging hate-makeouts in your lap. And the worst part is, you love it. Vriska’s nails rake Rose’s back, leaving jagged red lines behind. Rose’s hand is pressed to Vriska’s hard belly, sliding down into the front of her jeans. For that matter, Vriska is squeezing Rose’s butt through her orange tights. For the life of you you don’t know what to do, so you politely clear your digestion intake. Both of your lovers turn to you, and grin. Fuck.

Fuck. They attack you, peeling off your clothes, kissing every inch of you they can reach. Rose’s hot mouth, Vriska’s cool tongue, Rose’s soft fingertips, Vriska’s sharp claws. It’s a roundbreeze of sensations, all of them pleasurable, far too much for you to be able to focus on one thing. In no time you’re on your back, stripped bare—it seems they really are capable of working as a team when it benefits them. Your bulge unsheathes as you shudder and gasp, four hands coaxing your length out inch by inch.

Rose ducks between your legs and licks along your sickening folds, still pumping your shaft with one fist. “I never got to pay you back for the other day,” she says. Cocky smirks look just as good on her as they do on Vriska.

Vriska cackles. “Lalonde, flapping her tongue? Be still my pulsating pusher!” But it’s in good fun—her cheeks are flushed blue and she’s working her jeans off impatiently. Once they’re off and she’s in just her plain, athletic underwear, she crawls back to your upper body and descends for another deep kiss. This time she throws a leg over your waist and straddles you, and soon begins groping your spheres with fervor. She makes little mmmh’s and rrrrh’s as she kisses you that vibrate through your mouth and all the way down to your globes.

Meanwhile, Rose is kissing and licking up and down the length of your bulge, stroking with her hands what she can’t with her lips and tongue. Your cock crackles with pleasure, as though her pink little tongue is leaving a trail of sparks in its wake. After a few minutes, she rises to the jade-green head of it, kissing around the softer flesh there before attempting to lower her whole mouth down around your girth. She doesn’t make it too far, but the sensation is to die for. Her mouth is so warm and wet inside, and if this is only foreshadowing some future day, it’s more than enough. She pulls off with a gasp and coughs wetly. “Well, that’s didn’t work they way I thought it would,” she grumbles, and goes back to stroking you. To the best of your ability while still kissing Vriska, you reach a hand down to hers and give it a little squeeze to show how pleased you are with her efforts.

Pulling off you and looking back at your fully-erect bulge for the first time, Vriska trills in surprise. “I’ll 8e damned,” she says, reaching out to poke it experimentally and watching as it bobs back and forth. “You managed to fit _this_ inside of _her_?”

“…Not yet,” you say, hoping you don’t come off as sounding disappointed. “It Might Be Some Time Yet Before She’s Ready.”

“I kinda get it,” Vriska says, stroking you experimentally. “8ut… cool if I try first?” You look at Rose for approval. She’s quiet for a second, then she turns up her nose, but still watches Vriska’s hand teasing your straining bulge out of the corner of her eye.

“Well, get to it!” She huffs, crossing her arms. “I bet you can’t take the whole thing anyway.”

Vriska strips off her underwear quickly and reasserts herself atop your hips, reverse moobeastgirl, slapping your bulge against her hard stomach a few times as your hands take their place on her hips. Suddenly she and Rose and face to face. Vriska goes up on her knees and angles you to her entrance, her ass flexing to reach the required height. As the head of your cock kisses her entrance, a trickle of cerulean slime comes loose and drips down your shaft, framed between her thick legs. You’re treated to Rose’s reaction as Vriska slowly lowers down on you—first bemusement, then disbelief, and finally desire. Vriska’s nook is unbelievably tight, squeezing and massaging your length from all sides, a whole different level of pleasure from anything you’ve experienced so far. Rose bites her lip and begins to squeeze one of her soft, round breasts as she watches Vriska roll her body down you, lower and lower. By the time she’s halfway down your length, Rose is fingering herself. Vriska reaches to her, pulls her close, kisses her hard. “Squeeze my fuckin’ spheres, I need to be wetter,” she gasps.

Rose gladly complies. Vriska’s spheres are small and perky, splayed a bit by her broad stature. All this seems to turn Rose on even more, and while you can’t exactly see what she’s doing to Vriska, it sure seems to be working. More and more blue slime leaks from Vriska’s nook, slicking you up and speeding her descent down your bulge. Rose’s face disappears from your view and Vriska’s back flexes as she moans deeply. “Hey! No 8iting—aah!” Vriska’s knees give out in an unmistakable climax and she suddenly falls the last couple inches. A gush of cerulean splashes out between all of your legs, as her nooks clenches and spasms around every last inch of you. You very nearly pail, but not quite.

Rose chuckles, “Looks like the ‘gr8’ Vriska Serket does have a weakness after all… Two of them in fact.” She begins to stroke up and down Vriska’s laundryplanche abs with her slickened fingers as the larger girl struggles to catch her breath. You can feel her internal muscles buzzing and twitching around you.

“Goddammit Lalonde…” Vriska croaks, then regaining her legs, draws up a couple inches and eases down, replacing the fulsome pleasure of being at rest inside her with a much more immediate surge of bliss. She begins to fuck you slowly, drawing her hips up and down your shaft, deliberately making each thrust last as long as possible. “Kanaya… how is it…?”

You squeeze her hips appreciatively and say something that sounds like, “Amuhh.”

“I think my legs… need a br8k,” Vriska huffs. “Want to tap in… Lalonde?”

Rose, despite how competitive she’s been all night, finally blanches. But as Vriska pulls off your bulge, loosing a rivulet of green and blue slime right onto the straw flooring, Rose gulps and nods. You’re achingly hard at the thought of being inside her. She pulls a cushion over and lies back.

“Only if Kanaya wants to,” she says, reaching down to her wet folds and spreading herself for you with two fingers. Her insides are royally pink; such an erotic shade, and such a counterpoint to her body’s high temperature. Vriska unconsciously licks her chops at the sight.

“Oh Rose Yes,” You breathe, and quickly take your place between those legs you love so much, spread and welcoming you. The root of your thick shaft grazes her clit as it crests over her small body, and her eyes squeeze shut in a wince of pleasure.

Vriska slides over beside you two and presses your bulge down onto Rose’s tummy. It easily spans the length of her abdomen, extending up past her Belly Button. Honestly, the names of some of these human body parts strain credibility.

“This is how far in it’s gonna go, Lalonde. Sure you’re ready?” she grins.

Rose gasps slightly and gazes up at you, violet eyes wide. You nod reassuringly and say, “Don’t Worry, I’ll Go As Slow As I’m Able. Squeeze My Hand When You Need Me To Stop.”

You hold a hand out and she takes it. You draw your hips back and line yourself up at her entrance, and slowly begin to slide in.

Your name is Rose Lalonde and you’re not sure about this. You saw that thing next to your forearm a moment ago and if not for the color you wouldn’t know which was which. But you know Kanaya would never harm you, and anyway you definitely won’t be able to take her if you don’t relax.

You look up at her, glowing white before you. You reflect for the hundredth time today how perfect she is, how beautiful and elegant she looks over you, the curves of her slender body as she rears back to begin your lovemaking. The profound lust naked on her face, but overshadowed slightly by her concern for your well-being. Is that what makes her your girlfriend and not your matesprit? She didn’t seem to show the same concern when Vriska was atop her. Though, you weren’t exactly looking at her face at the time, you were slightly occupied.

The jade head of her cock brushes your folds and brings you back to the moment. Suddenly it’s real. You reach down and help guide her in. You’re wetter than you’ve ever been, and her bulge is still drenched in Vriska’s slippery slime, but even so it’s a struggle to fit her inside you. Suddenly, with a twitch of her hips, the head slips in. You inhale slightly as pleasure and pressure compound and stir and settle, flames licking up and down your body. You’re unable to not be tense somewhere; your flexing legs, your faltering breath, your hand squeezing Kanaya’s. Kanaya sinks another half-inch inside and the sensation of the coolness of her bulge enters the mixture of feelings consuming you. Your free hand whips back, and you’re surprised when Vriska takes it.

“You’re doing 8etter than I expected, Rose,” she says, smiling down at you and giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. The utter bitch, you think it’s the first time she’s used your first name since you arrived on the meteor. Your pussy clenches involuntarily and Kanaya yelps.

Little by little, Kanaya works herself into you, drawing back often and exploring a little deeper each time, until she reaches the point you simply can’t take any more. You grip her hand tightly gasp, “No more—too much—!”

Kanaya’s eyes flutter open and she frowns and nibbles her lip. “Is It Your, Er—First Time? I Hope I Did Not Hurt You!” You’ve got to hand it to the girl, she does her research.

“That’s Not It,” you reply weakly, “Horseback riding accident…” Her expression suggests this isn’t really an adequate explanation, so you squeeze her hand again. “Bad joke… Don’t worry, just be glad… we’re not having to deal with that now.”

Vriska is visibly impatient. “What the fuck are you talking a8out?”

You ignore her. “For now, Kanaya, if you can hold it to that much, I think I’ll be fine. Until tomorrow morning, at least,” and you wink encouragingly. Kanaya rocks her hips back and begins to thrust in a steady rhythm. Having had the time to grow used to her size, the only sensation left is overwhelming pleasure and from the look on her face, she feels it too. Entrhalled, you watch her every move as she fucks you, from the elegant flow of her fine hips, to the bouncing of her shapely breasts, to the way her eyebrows arc in pleasure. She’s filling you to the very core, overfilling, stuffing you. Every sensitive little spot inside you is getting pummeled with each thrust. From places you never discovered on your own, waves of pleasure course through every inch of your body. Kanaya begins to speed up slightly and with her free hand begins to rub your clit, and you’re surprised as a quick little climax comes right away. You’re certain there are more to come if she keeps going. But you realize when you come down slightly that one of you is being ignored.

“Vriska, how are your legs doing?” you ask her.

“…8etter. Why?”

You lean all the way prone and waggle your tongue at her. She grins and wastes no time straddling your face, facing Kanaya. Taking a meaty thigh in each hand, you dive in, cleaning her nook of all the juices left over from her messy orgasm. She tastes a little bitter. Well, bitter isn’t the right word for it, but maybe acerbic? Nothing you’d order at a restaurant, but… maybe at a bar. It’s hard to hear with her muscular legs squeezing your head, not that you mind, but you’re pretty sure they’re making out above you.

You moan into Vriska’s nook as Kanaya fucks you, which causes Vriska to trill in pleasure, which makes Kanaya’s cock twitch, which makes you moan. Every bit of pleasure felt by one of you is reciprocated twofold, until it can build no longer. You come again, harder, whining into Vriska’s cunt. You feel like you’re floating through a lightning storm, points of momentary euphoria all over and in and through you prickling instantaneously and endlessly. Vriska’s legs shiver as she rears up and climaxes on top of you, and it’s a good thing your eyes were closed, because a glut of sticky cerulean slime splashes all over your face and neck. The sight of Vriska coming on your face must have done it for Kanaya, because you can feel her thrusting gaining intensity. You wipe Vriska’s cream out of your eyes with a discarded piece of underwear, you’re not sure whose, just in time to see Kanaya’s face contort in pleasure as she drives into you one last time, and then you feel her cock pulse in your innermost depths as she begins to spray streams of thick cum inside you, filling you in a heartbeat. With nowhere left inside you to go, it splashes out between your hips and you whine, overpleasured, even as Vriska laughs in surprise and delight. Kanaya’s not done as she draws herself out and continues to blow her load over your twitching body, the first few bursts flying all the way over you to marble Vriska’s body with jade. Fat spurts land on your gasping face, slap onto your breasts and belly, drip between your hips, until you’re a mess of green and blue, suffused with the evidence of your lovers’ pleasure. For a moment all that can be heard is labored breathing.

“…Sorry,” Kanaya says, “I Should Have Used A Bucket.”

Your name is Rose Lalonde and you could get used to this.


	7. Chapter 7

Your name is Kanaya Maryam and lately, your life has been candy-sweet. Your relationship with Rose has only gotten stronger and more fulfilling since Vriska entered your quadrants, and for her part Vriska has held up her part of the deal, keeping Rose appraised of your activities and including her more often than not. You suspect they might enjoy their kismesitude just as much as they each enjoy being with you; for being light players, both girls could certainly be said to have a darkness in them and a capacity for hatred that far exceeds yours.

With all the time in Paradox Space to dally around, sew dressrobes, and play with your lovers and friends to your blood pusher’s content, you haven’t had a thing to worry about. Maybe that’s why an air of unctuous frustration has been hanging over you as each night blurs into the next, like the saccharine smog that rises from your cup of dubious coffee.

You can’t identify the cause of your anxiety, and the more you worry about why you worry, the more worried you get.You need something to take you out of yourself for a while, and you think a nice workout will do the trick. For the first time since alchemizing them, you pull on your only pair of sweatpants with a sigh of disdain and go to see Vriska.

As you pad the halls towards Vriska’s room, your luminescence reflects off the shiny walls, twinkling cheerfully, mocking your sour mood. Vriska being Vriska, she chose the most obscure block to inhabit, and getting there requires taking multiple transportalizers. You have a feeling she chose it just to be a pain in the ass.

The way there takes you through Can Town. Dave, Terezi, and the Mayor are there, building a new sports arena out of various colorful craft supplies. When she senses you, Terezi cocks her head and grins. “GOOD 3V3N1NG, TRAV3LL3R! WH4T BR1NGS YOU TO OUR F41R C1TY?”

On your best days you barely have time for this chicanery, and you’re not having one of those. “Yes, Good Evening Counsellor Terezi, Or Grand Duchess Or However You Style Yourself These Nights,” you reply curtly.

“No duchesses here, Kanapé, this is a no-royalty zone,” says Dave, who is wearing sunglasses indoors, a fact which never doesn’t irk you. “It’s a nobility-free municipality. Woah fuck, hold up—”

You groan, pinching the bridge of your nose and furrowing your brow. “Dave, Don’t Let’s Start Rapping, I’m Merely Passing Through.” But you can practically hear the gears turning in his head.

“No, shut up, this is gonna be good I can feel it. Uh, OK! Our municipality is nobility-free/ built on nothing but freedom and equality / no classes or ranks, just democracy/ and you can be anything you wanna be/ You could be just like Obama, see/ mixed race and lower income outta Hawai’i/ went to Harvard, constitutional law degree/ now he’s gonna fix our spiraling economy…”

Terezi shooshes him with a pap to the mouth. “D4V3, YOU’R3 R4PPING 4BOUT OB4M4 4G4IN!”

Dave bats her hand away. “How in the bulgebumping shit am I supposed to rap about democracy without bringing up Obama?” he deadpans, but Terezi bats away the hand that batted away her hand and they immediately dissolve into a slapfight. Terezi cackles obnoxiously as Dave utters a string of clipped curses. The Mayor looks from one to the other in distress, and dives between them to try to break them up. You take the chance to escape, leaving the tableau of metropolitan mayhem behind.

You knock on Vriska’s door more as a formality than anything; she’s told you on multiple occasions that you can simply enter anytime. Sure enough, she yells “Come in!” from somewhere inside, and you open the door to find her skipping rope in the middle of the spacious block. Last time you were in here was before you were matesprits, and it looked like a phallic detonation device had gone off, a fact you were sure to share with her. To your surprise, Vriska seems to have actually tidied up a bit, even if that just meant pushing piles of similar items along walls and into corners. Was that for you? She catches you noticing and smiles in a way that answers your question. She stops skipping rope as you draw near, her broad thorax pulsing with the heightened beat of her blood pusher. She’s wearing a tank top and baggy boxer shorts, the kind that actually look like what a prizefighter might wear. The thick elastic band squeezing around her stocky waist would be diminishing on you or Rose, but it only emphasizes her rugged fighter’s build. She looks Cerulean, for lack of a better word. She winks, “Hey there 8om8shell. I was doing some com8at training today. Wanna hit something?” she asks. Fuck. She’s so fucking sexy.

You sigh out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “You Have No Idea.”

Vriska laughs tosses you a pair of pugilist mittens, then picks up a pair of pads and holds them up. “So what’s 8ting you?”

You sink into a fighting stance, tucking your chin and crouching, finding yourself impatient to strike something. You prefer to fight with a weapon than with bare fronds, but it’s not like you never punched the shit out of some heinous undead motherfuckers before, or Vriska herself for that matter. “I Don’t Even Know. Maybe It’s The Fact That Nothing’s Eating Me That’s Making This So Irritating. Maybe I Don’t Know How To Operate Under Such… Favorable Circumstances As These.” One-two, one-two, your punches connect with Vriska’s pads with satisfying thwaps. She watches your body move with approval.

Vriska begins to switch up her pattern, giving you slightly harder targets to hit. “We’re a long w8y from home, huh?”

“Yesss… Ssst!” you hiss, throwing a haymaker. “You Acclimate To A Certain Level Of Danger, And Then It’s Suddenly Taken Away, And…” You fall back, gesturing with your scrum glove that you’re trying to formulate the right way to express what you’re thinking.

Vriska drops the pads on the ground. “And your thinkpan can’t just adjust your stress level down to this 8ullshit-easy life we suddenly got delivered into while all our friends died?” She gestures you over to a pugilism pylon. “Gotta make up shit to worry about? Can’t just take a 8reak?”

You begin to jab at it, switching up your footing every few punches. “It’s Been The Better Part Of A Sweep And Yet—Rrah! It Is As Though My Mind Is Still Back On Alternia, Or The Session… What An Utter Bitch Of A Six Hundred Hours That Was. I Still Catch Myself Flinching At Loud Noises And Hissing At Shadows. Which, As It Turns Out, Is A Problem Exacerbated By Being A Walking Source Of Light.”

Vriska has retrieved a couple of bulk spindles and is doing bicep curls while leaning back against the fracas bag you’re presently pummeling. You can’t see her muscles, but you know they’re there. “I liked SGRU8. Mostly,” she says.

You consider this, squatting into a musclebeast stance and delivering a series of straight kung-fu punches, left-right-left-right, losing yourself in the rhythm and the burning in your muscles. Of course she liked SGRUB, it was basically everything she could have ever wanted in a game. Adventure, intrigue, plots and plans aplenty. Although it can be immature, and even frustrating at times, you admire the way she always seems to view the past in a positive light. But in all that time… “I Wish We Could- Have Talked More- During The Game. I Know I- Could Have Been- More Accessible-, But You- Al-so- Could- Have- Tried- Har-der!” Your pusher burns and you pound the bag until you can no longer swing.

Sensing the end of your set, Vriska draws back from the bag and comes around to you, offering you the dumbbells. You shed your knuckle bumpers as you catch your breath, and take the weights from her as she says, “I was up to my nook in other shit! And anyway, you got to meet Rose and have your whole adventure, so what are you compl8ning about?”

You begin to lat-raise the weights, allowing the deep burn to course throughout your entire thorax. You feel suddenly righteous. “That Dress—The Fairy One I Made For You—Do You Remember It?”

Vriska’s eyes flick downwards in what is certainly recollection, but she chooses to act aloof. “Yeah, I guess?”

You drop the weights to your sides. “I Worked Hard On It. I Thought Of You Every Minute I Spent On It, How It Would Flatter You, How Overjoyed I Was You Came To Me With The Request. I Must Have Fantasized A Hundred Times That You’d Come To Receive It And Tell Me It Was Just An Excuse To Spend Time With Me, That You’d… Mother Grub, I Was Such A Wiggler, But I Dreamed That You’d Wear It For Me. But You Wore It For _Tavros_.” You spit the miserable little pedant’s name like a curse. 

Vriska flounders for a second, then crosses her arms over her chest defensively. “W8… Why didn’t you ever say anything? You and me were totally pale 8ack then!”

You point a dumbbell at her, body burning and pusher pounding. “I Was Never Just Pale For You. You Were Simply Too… ‘Up To Your Nook In Other Shit’ To Realize how Flushed I Was!”

Color rises to Vriska’s face. “I—” she begins, but stops. “How long?”

You drop both dumbbells and close the space between the two of you. “Always,” you say.

The last year has changed Vriska in several significant ways, but by far the most important one is teaching her the value of shutting up from time to time. As you take her hands in yours and gaze into her eyes, she has the good sense to keep silent.

“I Suppose, Thanks To The Way This Whole Affair Started, You Think I Was Just Some… Reward You Got For Being…You. For Being The Great Vriska Serket And Winning The Game, Climbing All The Rungs And Earning All Levels. And… Maybe That’s Not Totally Wrong. Despite Everything I Forgive You, And I Admire You A Great Deal. But That Doesn’t Mean Nothing You Did Before Matters.”

Vriska’s implacable façade can’t withstand your earnestness. As she begins to respond, her voice cracks slightly. “…I don’t— Don’t feel like I deserve you, Kanaya. Not always, anyway.”

You lean forward and kiss her softly. It’s a tender little thing, just your lips on hers, your hands around hers. Then it’s done. “Well You Do. Because Somewhere In There Is A Good Person.” You poke her right in the pusher. “Don’t Be Afraid To Let Her Out.”

Vriska reaches down, takes your hand, and brings it to her lips, kissing your sore knuckles. “Feel better?”

You realize that you’ve caught your breath. Your body is buzzing, warm, and Vriska’s cool body is close. You realize that yes, you do feel better. Sometimes hitting things does help. “Much. But There’s Still One Thing I Want To Talk About.”

Vriska steers you to her vertical hoist bench, where a weight is already racked and ready. She goes to shed weights from it but you stop her with a Look. She backs up, raising her arms with a sarcastic _s8r-ry!_ expression. You slide under the bar and she takes spotter’s position. You heave the bar up with a taught exhalation, then go another five repetitions.

“How’s the w8?” She asks, failing to hide her surprise at your strength.

“Fine,” you answer. Your Drinker Strongness hasn’t let you down yet. But it’s your very genetics that have you so frustrated right now. “It’s About Rose,” You say, “Something She Said That First Night When She Accepted Me For Who I Am, Not Her Notions Of Who She Assumed I’d Be. She Told Me That Because Of Me, Her Self-Evaluation Shifted When She Included My Physiology In Her Mental Praxis.” You knock out another six reps, then slide out for Vriska to work in. “The Reasoning For Her Doing So Has Been Nagging At Me. So I Have A Bulge, Not Something I Asked For, But Also Not Something I’m Particularly Troubled By When All Is Said And Done. So Why Is It That Simply Because My Anatomy Is The Way That It Is, Rose Had To View Her Own Identity In A New Light?”

Vriska knocks out eight reps in quick succession, leaving you feeling quite tense. “Light light light light light light light _light!_” She wheezes. “Fuck it! You’ve gotta learn when to just let sh8t go. You’re the same fussyfangs you ever were to me, and anyw8, that snooty 8ookworm of yours reevaluates her fucked-up psyche every time she changes socks. Let her have her dum8 human identity crisis, and in the meantime let me have that 8ulge!” And before you can object, she nimbly grabs the waistband of your sweatpants and pulls down.

You’ve been expecting things to go this way since you kissed her; there was nothing subtle in the lascivious way she looked you up and down while you were doing pad training. And it’s not like you weren’t guilty of drinking in the sight of her like the cool blue water of a miragepond. So when her firm grip ensconces your squat-tightened ass, you unsheathe immediately, dribbling some thin slime on her forehead as your semisolid bulge splats down along the length of her face, painting her features green. She merely giggles, her eyes scrunched tight. “Haha, gross!”

You huff. “I Thought You Wanted This.”

She pecks your bulge with a couple of little kisses, causing you to shiver. “Maybe that’s _why_ I w8nt it,” she quips, taking you in one hand and wiping her face off with the other. She slides back on the bench until her head is hanging off, and you have to bow your legs to avoid getting speared by the three points of her horns. Then she does something you really didn’t expect: she opens her mouth wide for you, even going to far as to pull the corners of her sapphire lips apart with her fingers, then wiggles her tongue at you and winks.

Fuck. It takes a moment to let the reality of the situation shiver down your thorax from disbelieving thinkpan to deeply willing genebladder. Your cock twitches in anticipation, a glowing pillar of jade. You draw your hips back, placing the swollen head between her lips, and slowly slide your slick bulge into her waiting maw. Inch after inch enters, and you’re racked by waves of pleasure as her cool, wet lips close around you, as her tongue laps at the veins along your length, as her unconscious moan vibrates through you. It’s not long before you reach the entrance to her squawk blister… You know what, you’ll give it to the humans on this one and go with “throat.” Vriska is a champ, and you feel almost no resistance as she relaxes and takes you even deeper inside her mouth, just sublime pleasure. Before long, her sharp chin reaches your pelvis, and your eyes shudder open and gaze down to witness yourself hilt-deep in Vriska Serket’s mouth. Dribbles of cerulean spit run upwards down her inverted face, bubbling from her lips around your twitching girth. Her tongue is pressed flat against you, but somehow she manages to keep her sharp fangs from grazing your flesh.

You draw back a tentative inch, then slide forward. It feels like fireworks are going off between your hips, deep in the shame globes that you figure must be in there somewhere. The slick motion sends flames of pleasure coursing along your entire length. Vriska, for her part, murmers a muted moan and dives a hand into her shorts, rubbing her nook roughly from the outset. You rear back a little more this time, and thrust a little harder, and in no time you’re fucking her throat. 

She taps your leg so you pull out to let her catch her breath. Your cock drips with turquoise slime, strings of the stuff trailing back to her gasping mouth. “Phwah… This would be easier if your dumb 8ulge wasn’t so fucking 8ig!” she wheezes, and your pusher does a little backflip.

“I Assure You You’re Performing Most Admirably…” you say, though the state of your bulge has already made that clear. You’re so hard you can _see_ your pulse, so you’re sure she can feel it. She pulls you back inside her mouth, and trails of cerulean spittle coalesce and cascade from her swollen lips as you hold onto the weight bar and wantonly hump her face, moaning in ecstacy. Coupled with your nook’s natural lubricant your slickened prick slides in and out of her tight gullet, her tongue swiping and stroking, her hands on your hips squeezing, pulling you back in every time you draw out. She’s stained her shorts blue by now with the fervent motions of her thick fingers, and before your eyes she comes with a moan that travels right up your shaft.

You groan and shiver, a throb then another coursing down your length, and then that rush comes crashing through and feel your resistance give way. She senses it and pulls your hips into her, trapping you all the way inside. You go up on tiptoes, white-knuckling the bar and coming hard, shot after thick shot splattering right down her throat. At first her grip is vicelike, but before long she sputters and chokes around your throbbing cock, and she pushes you back until your still-firing bulge slides out of her gasping mouth with a sticky _schlorp_, followed by more long blue-green stings of saliva and slime. She gasps wetly, coughing up thick green slime to dribble down her upturned face and hair, stroking your shaft as you continue to shoot fat ropes of jade over her face and sprawled-out body. You stain her shorts and tank top green, sticky cum spraying over her in jagged lines, finally slowing to a trickle which she’s all too happy to catch on her tongue and suck down with a low _slurp_ and then a wet _gulp_. You slump to the floor, knees weak, as you both catch your breath.

Vriska chuckles and pulls off her soiled tank top, dropping it to the floor. Her rumble nubs are hard through her sports bra, and her chest and abs are glistening with sweat. Your cock twitches to life at the sight, eager for more. “Feel better?” she muses.

You stop wheezing long enough to say, “Yes, Much. Thanks For The ‘Workout’… Can I Repay You?”

She smiles and shakes her head, accidently shaking loose a few dribbles of a couple different fluids. “I could use a 8reak. Tell you what, you can owe me one.” She holds a fist up for you to bunp, and you bunp it righteously. Vriska offers you a couch on which to lie down while she uses the ablution streamer, but you tell her you’ll rejoin her later in the evening after you go back to your block and change, perhaps with Rose in the games room for tea and Traumatic Capitalism. She seems to be glowing nearly as much as you, and you kiss her goodbye with nothing but flushed affection in your pumper. Maybe “Fuck it” was the correct answer after all.

As you make your way back through Can Town, Terezi wrinkles her nose at you and then deftly flashes you a thumbs-up. Dave just stares, inscrutable as ever.

“Dude. Kanaya, was this just a goddamn booty call? Have you been taking advantage of our rustic township’s convenient byways just to get your moon rocks off?”

You’re in a good enough mood to humor him this time. “You Might Consider, As A Matter Of Public Safety, The Pertinence Of Emplacing A Couple Of ‘Beware Of Rapidly Descending Boulders’ Signs. This Might Be Happening A Fair Bit.”

Dave scoffs, but Terezi gives you one of her gargoyle grins. “W3’LL S33 HOW MUCH ROOM W3 H4V3 1N TH3 RUMPUS BUDG3T FOR SH3N4N1GAN S1GN3RY.”

You look around at the sprawling metropolis before you, at how happy your friends are, and of course at the Mayor, on his belly and kicking his legs as he scribbles a park into existence with the wrong color chalk. Your name is Kanaya Maryam and you think that, under the right circumstances, maybe you _can_ learn to just let sh8t go. You plop down by the Mayor, pick up a piece a chalk, and get to work.


	8. Chapter 8

Your name is Vriska Serket, and tonight you’re particip8ing in an arduous trial. An intric8 dance of intellect and verve. Tonight, you’re going to 8nime clu8.

Dave said to bring one episode of any series for some kind of contest. You can’t just traipse in with any old box set and expect everyone to have a grand old time. Not that you give a single solitary spidershit about those cartoons Nepeta and Sollux used to like, but if this is going to be a contest, guess what? Senpai’s gonna notice you tonight.

You take another look at the invitation he texted out, parsing the artifact-ridden jpeg as best you can. You’re afraid leaving it onscreen long enough will give your phone a virus or something. You’ve got a show picked out that is sure to stun and amaze. Along with the Meteor’s other residents, you meander into the theater room that Dave and Karkat were quick to set up once your journey had begun. Various half-hearted efforts at a regular communal movie or TV night already failed; none of you are really “schedule” people, excepting Kanaya who always turned up to social engagements but usually brought a paperback in case Terezi tried to make everyone watch To Cull A Mockingbeast again. But tonight, the stars had aligned and everyone was able to come together for what promised to be, if nothing else, something different.

“I here8y declare the first-ever meeting of the 8nime Clu8 officially underw8y!” you crow, casting a hand out like Troll Suzumiya Haruhi on the cover of one of Dave’s DVDs.

“Dude, no—don’t call it ‘Anime Club’, that sucks,” Dave says, thumbing through the stack of freshly-alchemized box sets of choice pre-2009 Japanese and East Alternian animation. “Call it something cool, like I don’t know, call it the fuckin’ ‘Society for Dormant Sexual Deviants who Also Like Robot Cartoons Sometimes.’ Princess Tutu? You fuckin’ kidding me? Who brought this?”

“1 THOUGHT YOU S41D 4N1M3 1S COOL,” Terezi pouts. “YOU C4LL3D US 4LL 1N H3R3 TO W4TCH SOM3TH1NG YOU DON’T 3V3N L1K3? TH4T’S 4 PR3TTY D4V3 TH1NG TO DO, 3V3N FOR YOU.”

“Look, my Bro liked ‘anime’. Everything was ‘anime’ with him, he used the word as an adjective multiple times a day. I just liked the cartoons on TV that happened to be from Japan, not that you’d know from the way they dubbed it, actually they did most of the voice work in Texas, but–anyway, what I’m trying to say here is that you can love him and hate him at the same time. Anime, that is. Ayyyyep… Anime uses he/him pronouns.”

Rose’s eyes narrow slightly at Dave’s Freudian slip. “Seems as though the real name of this evening of entertainment ought to be ‘Dave’s Therapy Club,’” she deadpans.

Dave doesn’t look back. “I thought it would be cool to watch these shows with y’all. Back then, I mean, like on TV. I know Jade liked Cowboy Bebop at least, and we watched Wolf’s Rain together… John claims he hated all of ‘em, but I happen to know he watched Sailor Moon religiously. Wonder what was up with that.”

“Curious indeed. I watched Digimon every Saturday morning when I was a kid. Looking back on it, I think Angewomon may have been partially responsible for instigating my descent into adolescence,” Rose chuckles. “I spoke to Jade about it one time. I asked her, ‘who was the Digimon who was kind of sexy but you were 10 so you couldn’t understand exactly what it all meant?’ and she practically screamed ‘Oh, Renamon?’”

This gets a wistful chuckle from Dave. “I guess it got her too. The age of cereal and Saturday morning cartoons, huh? Talk about different times.”

Karkat snatches a box off the stack as Dave passes by him on the way to the TV. “WHAT THE HELL IS AN ‘ AKAGI ?’ DAVE, THIS BETTER NOT SUCK.”

“I don’t know, we’re not supposed to know whose is whose,” says Dave, snatching it back, and then flicking him on the forehead for good measure. “Alright, so here’s the deal. Everyone brought an episode to watch, we’re going to watch them in random order, and then we’re going to vote on who wins. Can’t vote for yourself. Winner gets to pick the theme next week. Any questions?”

Rose smirks and asks, “Would you like to lie down on the couch?”

Dave just flips her off and flops down next to Karkat, making sure to leave room for the holy spirit. Everyone settles in a little closer together as the lights come down and the projector switches on, and the first episode begins. First up is the "Zodd the Immortal" fight from Troll Berserk . After the frenetic combat comes to an end, a particularly pretty episode of Gankutsuou begins. The evening continues according to plan with a tense Troll Death Note ep, and everyone is surprised and captivated by the eerie fairytale motif of Princess Tutu, but all you really care about is your turn.

Your episode, from Troll Akagi, is about a young but fearless gamblignant who bets his own blood against his opponent’s stacks of cash. He’s strapped to a transfusion machine and forced to play a game of Troll Mahjongg. When the chips are down, and he’s lost a significant amount of blood, he pulls off an astounding victory, winning back all the blood he’s lost so far. But instead of receiving the transfusion, he just lights a cigarette, empties his ashtray into the vials of his blood, and asks for his winnings in cash, already anteing for the next draw.

As the episode reaches its climax, your eyes can’t help but dart around the room to the faces of your friends, and you grin as you see Terezi and Kanaya gasp in delight. Even Rose and Karkat seem into it. You’re sure to win at this rate, especially after the last episode of the night begins and you recognize it as the weed episode of Samurai Champloo.

Finally, it’s time to vote. You’ve got this in the bag. You grin smugly as the everyone writes their choice on a scrap of paper and puts it in. You even vote for the dumb ballet anime to make sure no other series beats yours.

Karkat receives the hat from Terezi, puts his ballot in, and hands it to Dave, who drops his in, and then dumps it out on the coffee table. Every single ballot says “Princess Tutu” except one, which reads “Winnings in Cash Please” in looping purple ink.

“F8CK!” You bellow, slamming your fist on a pillow.

“I’ll be damned,” Dave says, then nods at Rose. “Well played.”

Rose merely smiles, that insufferable feline smirk that inflames your gall nodule every single time. She claps her hands authoritatively and says, “Thank you very much, everyone. The theme for next week will be ‘book adaptations,’ and just like any good elected representative would tell you, the less faithful the better. Now, I declare tonight’s festivities at a close, so let us retreat to our respective parlors for brandy and cigars.” She and Kanaya exchange warm smiles as the gang disbands. Dave, Karkat and Terezi head off to the kitchen to alchemize some snacks as you turn to see Rose smugly lead the way back to Kanaya’s room. You hurry along to follow.

Muttering oaths under your breath, you trail them back to Kanaya’s room, the rainbow drinker in question lighting the way through the corridors. Lately Rose has been levitating around when she could just walk, which seems like it should piss Kanaya off as one of the meteor’s permanent victims of gravity, but it doesn’t. If anything, she seems to find it attractive. It seems lazy to you not to simply walk, but Rose seems to view nearly any physical activity as inconvenience at best and an insult to her dignity at worst. Or, you think, watching her float apace with Kanaya’s even strides, Rose might just be compensating for the inch or two Kanaya grew in the last few perigees—the Jadeblood looms over even you now. She ducks her long horns under the doorframe into her room, Rose drifting after her.

This is your first time in since Kanaya’s latest round of remodeling—gone is the miniature Arc De Triomphe overseeing its functional recreation Champs-Élysées water feature, and instead the entire room has been decorated almost like a tropical cabana, with the added quirk of being entirely monochrome. “W8ah, this is different,” you say. “Is this 8ased on another human country or something? Like, a really old one?” You heave your bulk onto a rattan sofa, which creaks and crackles as you settle in.

Kanaya begins to speak but Rose quickly interjects. “It’s based on a film called ‘Casablanca.’ Don’t get her started.”

You look at Kanaya, who’s blushing slightly but with a shine in her eye. She’s hanging up her coat, a lightweight black trench with jade-green piping, and nibbling her lip. She really wants to talk about it. God she’s adorable. Just to spite Rose, you raise an eyebrow permissively.

“I Can’t Believe I Didn’t Watch It Earlier!” she gushes at once. “ Casablanca Is A Story Of Love On The Fringes Of War. The Midblood Protagonist Runs A Dayclub In A Neutral Territory But His Plans To Peaceably Bide The War In Exile Are Interrupted When His Former Matesprit Arrives And Drags Him Into A Web Of Intrigue, Romance, And Conspiracy! In The End He Must Choose Between Love And Peace, Knowing That Either Outcome Would Spell A Tremendous Loss. I Really Should Have Seen It Sooner, It’s Gripping From Beginning To End, Not To Mention A Very Technically Well-Made And…” Realizing she’s rambling, Kanaya blushes a little deeper. “Anyway, I Er…”

You smile. “You’re cute when you’re 8eing a nerd.” Your matesprit lights up like a firecracker. Rose is already smirking, eyelids low. She’s removing her black denim jacket, leaving her in a thin maroon sweater top, and a pleated black skirt over dark tights. The tight weave of her top plays across her warm little body as Kanaya’s glow sparkles along the string of pearls around her fine neck and her shiny hair. You swallow, realizing your mouth is dry, and feel a cool rush in your lower belly as they both turn to you.

Rose drifts gaily across the room to you. “She is, isn’t she?” she chuckles, wafting up behind you and running her fingertip down your spine. You shiver in response, your pulse rising. You sit up a little straighter and she takes advantage, nuzzling into the crook of your neck and kissing up to your ear, tracing its shell with her warm lips.

“I could listen to you summarize films for hours,” she calls to Kanaya, and then whispers right into your ear, “And I could fuck you for days,” before nipping your earlobe hard. You barely stifle a gasp but she still notices, and so does Kanaya. Her eyes follow Rose’s curious little hand as it traces along the curve of your hip… only to stop when she feels something in the pocket of your jeans. “Oh? What’s this?”

“I don’t know…” you say, momentarily disoriented. Just like every day, you selected today’s jeans from your clothes chair at random, and you don’t remember putting anything in your pockets. You pull out the object, a little baggie of …“8h, it’s that human d8pe I bought from Karkat a few perigees ago just to get him to shut up. I forg8t all about it.”

Kanaya, having calmed herself down a bit, covers her laugh with her fingers. “So He Really Did Do His Homework,” she says.

You and Rose share a quizzical glance.

“I Admit I Don’t Have The Complete Picture But As I Understand It As Part Of A Pedagogically Progressive Curriculum Dave Tasked Karkat With The Illicit Sale Of Hallucinogens, So As To Facilitate A Deeper Appreciation For… A Certain Musical Genre.”

“That’s wh8 th8 was a8out?” you laugh. You had offered to smoke up with him there and then, and he practically sprinted away from your room, muttering something about a dare.

Rose nods. “Introduced in the first act and blazed up in the third… Truly this is Chekov’s ganj,” she says, and now it’s Kanaya’s turn to give you a quizzical glance. You shrug and let it go by, it’s probably not that funny if she has to explain it.

Rose takes her seat on a piece of wicker furniture strewn with luxurious pillows while Kanaya busies herself pouring glasses of coconut water with fresh ginger and lime. This quarter of the room has been redesigned to resemble a cantina, complete with a bar serving non-alcoholic mixed drinks. Sometimes if you were visiting Kanaya for some private concupiscence, you’d bring a flask of rum. Hell, sometimes you’d bring a flask of rum to visit Rose, callously drinking in front of her just to piss her off; she loved that. But drinking in front of Rose in front of Kanaya is a little uncomfortable. That said, hallucinogens aren’t alcohol right?

“So… are we g8nna sm8ke this shit or what?” you ask, shaking the baggie and inspecting the contents. Not that you really know what you’re looking at, but just going by the condition of the plastic the contents are none the worse for wear.

“What Exactly Is It?” Kanaya asks, looking unsure.

“It’s a plant humans smoke in order to feel more relaxed or creative,” says Rose, “but as Dave highlighted, its illegality on Earth lent it somewhat of a sinister reputation among… well, the very types who probably should have been using it in the first place. Ironically, the forces that contrived to outlaw it were largely funded by sellers of legal drugs such as alcohol or tobacco, simply hoping to prevent new competition. You know what, I’ve convinced myself, allow me,” Rose says, taking the baggie from you and walking over to Kanaya’s kitchenette.

Kanaya begins fussing immediately. “Er, Dear? Can I Help You Find Something, Or Um…” 

After some searching, Rose pulls out the spice mill and begins to apportion the contents of the baggie inside. After a bit of mechanical grinding, she comes back over with the masticated soporleaf in a dish on an ornate silver tray. An arboreal funk fills the air, traces of dirt and plant material that conjure images of Alternia in the back of your mind—not quite home but somewhere on the way. Placing it on the table between your wicker chairs, Rose clasps her hands. “Now if you’ll excuse me I need to go alchemize something,” she says, and floats briskly out of the room.

The green of the glittering, flaky powder stands out in the monochrome room. You look from the strange substance to Kanaya’s eyes, noting the similarity in hue. “I like what you’ve done with the place,” you say, pulling off your overshirt and tossing it somewhere behind you.

Kanaya frowns but at least she doesn’t immediately get up to fold it this time. Her eyes unconsciously trace your newly-uncovered skin and you lap up the attention. “…Thanks, Though To Be Honest I Wish I’d Thought Through The Black And White Aspect A Little More… It Seemed Like An Amusing Idea But In Actuality The, Er… Contrast Is A Little Stark. You Really Should Consider Watching Casablanca Though. I Can’t Believe I Didn’t Watch It Earlier! I’d Be Glad To…”

You yawn and stretch out on the rattan loveseat as Kanaya continues to babble, comforted by the sound of her voice. Gazing over to her you pat the bare cushion beside you a couple times and quirk an eyebrow. She pauses, sighs… but joins you. You slide a little closer to her, closing the space between you and slipping an arm around her reedy waist. She stiffens for a moment as your cool hand runs across the smooth material of her black blouse, then relaxes and leans against you. For a long moment the two of you are quiet.

“Are You Still Mad About Anime Club?” she asks.

The nerve. “N8,” you say, a bit too loud. “Wh8 c8res a8out 8nime clu8?”

Kanaya pouts. “Apparently You Do,” she counters.

“…App8rently I do,” you admit. “F8ck.”

“Is It Because You Lost Or Because Rose Won?”

You think for a second. “8oth. I think if it was one or the other I wouldn’t mind. 8ut losing to Rose at anything… I just c8n’t fucking st8nd it. May8e we should stick to Mario Kart.”

“Or Maybe…You Learn To Lose One Once In A While.” You can’t see her face but her body is tense against yours. “It’s Not Pleasant, But It’s Not The End Of The World To… Not Win Sometimes.”

“Oh, you’re one to talk, Little Miss Drama! Everything is ‘The End Of The World’ with you, it’s always ‘8luh 8luh F8 Of Trollkind!’” you blurt before you can catch yourself.

Kanaya is deathly still. She pulls away and turns to face you, exasperated. Pale tears form at the corners of her eyes as her glow fades to a pallid gray. “I’m Trying Very Hard, Vriska. To Be Both Red And Ashen For You. Won’t You Please… Won’t You Please Just Be Kind?”

You’re stunned. Your head swims with all the things you want to say to her. You want to apologize for every time you hurt her, thank her for every time she saved you, assuage her every doubt, applaud her every triumph. You want to tell her that to her, she’s not beautiful, she’s beauty itself. You want to let her know in some small way just how good she makes you feel. You wish you were better at… Being Kind, you guess. “Kanaya, I—” you begin.

But then Rose returns, holding a strange glass object. “Later,” Kanaya says, and squeezes your hand to let you know it’s fine for the moment. Your head reels with misfiring emotions, at once afraid of misunderstanding and being misunderstood by the people you care most about. Kanaya must be mad at you, or worse, disappointed. You’re not sure if you’re mad at Rose or—Hell, Rose must hate you or maybe not hate you anymore or fuck can’t anything just f8king make sense?

Rose drops the strange glass object off on the table, then she floats over to the two of you, kissing first Kanaya and then you on your respective foreheads. Ordinarily you’d make a show of batting her away but you just don’t have the energy. So you just watch as she gets the soporleaf ready in the glass device she brought with her.

“Have no fear, I looked up how to do this on the internet,” she says, bringing the lighter to the bowl. Her clever alien eyes flutter closed as the smoke bubbles and swirls through the water and into her “lung.” Holding it in for a moment, she quickly thrusts the device into your hands as she begins to cough. After a round of wheezing coughs, she remembers to pass you the lighter as well. “The Inter- ach -Internet Ech-hoo mentioned this,” she coughs. “It’s, Ech , normal, apparent- ahchoo! ”

You look down at the “8ong.” You assume that’s what it’s called because “8luh 8luh huge 8ong” is written on it in red. You make a mental note to murder Dave Strider later.

For now though… You imitate what Rose did, bringing the flame to the bowl and watching the stuff light up as orange as your god-tunic before searing your nitric sponge with rush of sticky heat. For a moment it’s just burning but then the smoke curls within you and you begin to cough as well, expelling the fumes in a series of jagged hacks and wheezes. Your nose runs and you being to tear up, so you pass the 8ong into Kanaya’s hands and quickly drink the coconut water that Rose hands you. 

The cooling drink washes the scratchiness out of your throat and the discomfort fades. You wipe your face off with your shirt, then for good measure you peel it off and toss it behind you to be with its friend. You look up to see Kanaya nervously regarding the 8ong. She gulps and commits, and you feel yourself blush as you watch her bring the glass tube to her black lips. Something about the way her fine eyebrows bow as she inhales the harsh smoke really does it for you, and you realize your whole body feels light. She reclines back onto you, brings her lips to yours. You smile and accept her offer, breathing in the smoke she exhales. Rose, lavender eyes blown, rides an air current over to the two of you, recovering the 8ong from Kanaya and leaning close to your face. You breathe Kanaya’s smoke into her, then reach up to pull her to you for a kiss. She braces her buoyant form against your arm and kisses you back, her lips deliciously warm.

Moments join together and pass by. You lie still and remember that you are travelling at mind-bending speed. Rose tucks herself under one of your arms and nuzzles back into your neck, this time simply sighing. You adjust your arm around her and smile. You smile too. Huh, guess it works.

Kanaya stands up and stretches, watching the two of you with a warm smile of her own. “I Think I May See The Appeal Of This Stuff. I Certainly Do Feel…” she trails off. “Oh Dear. What Was I Talking About?”

“You weren’t yet!” Rose giggles.

“Oh, Yes, Casablanca,” Kanaya walks over to the white upright piano in the dayclub section of the room.

“Play it, Sam!” Rose calls, eliciting a musical laugh from Kanaya.

Kanaya begins to plink out a melody. You didn’t even know she could play piano. She begins to sing, not confidently but she’s far from bad. “It's Still The Same Old Story/ A Fight For Love And Glory/ A Case Of Do Or Die/ The World Will Always Welcome Lovers…” she sings, and Rose joins her to belt out, “ As Time Goes By!”

You’re transfixed. A blanket of calm settles over you and your body begins to feel warm, the lightness you felt before spreading all the way to your fingers and toes. There’s nowhere you’d rather be.

Kanaya trails off. She begins to play a different song, one you don’t recognize. She plays the same bit a few times, sighs and stops, starts again. “I Wrote This For The Two Of You,” she says, and you and Rose both turn to her, surprised. Before either of you can say anything, she begins to sing, her voice a dusky alto.

A vision in a veil will view the bright clouds in the skies

A torn-asunder sun provides the light that blinds her eyes

Cascading rays in cadence deign to rain from up above

In a sense I’m luminescent for my love 

A hero dies, a heathen cries, a rise of booming bells

A hundred times the thunder rhymes and sighs all through the dells

A hundred times the sound calls down a lost soul from above

Innocence, I’m luminescent for my love

A spectral eye divides the sky, aflower fore and aft

Akimbo, nimble spindles kindle arcing, sparking shaft

The Seer arraigns the game in vain as flames rain from above

Candlelight, I’m luminescent for my love

A villain willing children on down lonely, brittle cliffs

A game of masks, her tasks as set in stone as petroglyphs

A game of fools, how fortune’s jewels when tumbled from above

Can delight, I’m luminescent for my—

“St8p,” you cry, before you even realize you’re upset. Kanaya and Rose both turn to you, as stunned by your outburst as you are. You don’t even know what made you so upset, hearing Kanaya sing about you, and the memories her song conjures. Just a bunch of shit that happened in the stupid past that doesn’t matter anymore. Just a bunch of shit that you had to do to survive. The soporleaf is fucking with your head, stringing blurry memories together in a cavalcade of pain and fear and rage and death. So much death, no matter what you did. Do you even know anybody who hasn’t died? For the first time in a sweep you think about your lusus, and the dam bursts. You begin to cry in earnest, your whole body shivering with suppressed sobs.

“Vriska, I—” Kanaya begins, but you speak first.

“I’m n8t—I Didn’t—” you croak. You’re gasping, breathing sporadically. You’re not angry at Kanaya but you think you might vomit. “I d8n’t kn8w?”

“Vriska, I’m Sorry, I Was Trying To …” Kanaya says, not sure what to do with her hands and nearly apoplectic, but suddenly Rose is there with a calming hand on her shoulder.

“Kanaya, your song was… The most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.” She kisses her stunned girlfriend on her lips, before turning to you. She moves to your side on the sofa and does something she’s never done before: she hugs you.

Rose’s body is almost humorously small given the size of her personality, let alone her intellect. Nonetheless she wraps her little arms around you, not quite making it around your thorax. She puts her lips to your ear, the chitin there so sensitive to the heat and moisture of her breath, and she begins to shush you, even bringing a hand up to stroke the tangles of your hair.

“Shh, Shh, it’s OK, Vriska. You’re safe. We’re all safe. Shh, Shh,” Rose’s lilting voice, usually so cutting, has become gentle. You relax into her touch, and gradually your breathing slows. The images assaulting your brain subside, and a calm emptiness fills your head.

The warmth of her body is melting your stress away, and you realize just how tight you’d wound yourself up as you relax your muscles. Your kismesis is shooshing you with textbook form, like something out of a palesmut video. This is just filthy. This is perverted beyond reason. This Is M8ther F8c8ing—

“Blasphemy,” Kanaya whispers out loud, before biting her clenched fist in embarrassment. You both turn to her. Her face is a uniform shade of green and she’s glowing like a Empress’ day float. She’s holding a couch cushion across her lap in a somewhat suspect manner.

Rose snorts, and then breaks out in an undignified peal of laughter. “Kayana, are you GETTING OFF on this?” Her laughter is as infectious as it is rare; the leaf really seems to have loosened her up. Soon you’re laughing too as Kanaya’s face turns darker and darker shades of green.

Kanaya swallows, gazes downwards, and mumbles, “…It Was Hot.”

Your chest swells. If you had known that all it would take to give your hapless matesprit the show of her death was a little cross-quadrant play, you’d have done this perigees ago. Hell, you’re sure never going to look at Rose the same way again. In fact…

“That’s n8thing,” you say, before seizing the back of Rose’s head in the palm of your hand and kissing her deeply. Rose’s lavender eyes go wide in surprise for a moment before fluttering closed. Her arms hang loosely over your shoulders, allowing you to easily hoist her up, continuing to kiss her long and deep even as you carry her to Kanaya’s bed. You pull away at last, meeting her gaze over your quickened breaths as a string of bluish saliva bows between your lips. You share a conspiratorial chuckle with Rose as you both look over at Kanaya, whose grip is threatening to shred her armrests into toothpicks. You lay Rose on the bed and crawl over her.

“You just stay over there and get comfortable,” Rose calls to Kanaya, drawing your lips back to hers. She takes the initiative, taking advantage of your need to support your body weight by tracing up your flexed arms and back. Her hot little fingertips trace the thinner parts of your carapace, ever conscious of your reactions to her touch, heat-mapping your pleasure.

Used to be, you came at sex like any other game. Maybe there wasn’t a winner and a loser—you can bet your ass if Vriska Serket was fucking there were no losers in sight—but that just made it all the sweeter when your partners would submit to your superior prowess and force of will. But lately, you’ve been letting all that go. Long, indulgent mornings of lovemaking with Kanaya don’t need a winner. No, that’s not it, you just hate to see her lose.

No, that’s not it either, because at anything but sex, you love to see Rose lose, but you feel the same way about her. The kind of fucking the two of you do, the campaign of erotic one-upmanship, is about striking a balance, about keeping a volley going. The idea of a session ending in a clear winner almost diminishes the pitch appeal of it. She’s truly a kismesis for the ages.

One thing that you and Rose love to do in equal measure is tease Kanaya. In your mutual defense, she makes it easy for you; it wouldn’t be as fun if she wasn’t so goddamned cute about it. You roll over on the bed, pulling Rose up and over you on her hands and knees. The motion causes her skirt to flutter and rise up her legs, exposing more and more of her stretched stockings, upturned ass facing an increasingly flustered Kanaya.

You cup her rear in your other hand as you continue to stroke her soft hair. You peek at Kanaya, who’s caught somewhere between distress and delight at your shenanigans. Time for Phase Two. You give Rose an exaggerated wink and breathe dramatically, “Hey Rose, I just w8nted to say, I’m… I’m s8rry. ” Sure enough, from across the room, you hear a whine escape Kanaya like a teapot about to boil over.

Rose must have heard it too. “Sorry for what, exactly? I admit I’ve lost count of your offenses,” Rose says, lavender eyes gazing up at you through thick lashes, lips fixed as ever in that damnable smirk… Although from this angle, it’s kind of sexy? 

“I’m sorry for… calling you a ‘8lovi8ing 8itch’ when we were playing Catan,” you mutter. You hadn’t actually expected her to ask what you were sorry for. Now you actually had to go and say that. Stupid!

“Well, if you promise never to do it again, I suppose I could forgive you,” Rose says, before turning to Kanaya and asking, “I don’t know, Kanaya, do you think I should forgive Vriska?”

Kanaya gulps audibly and dabs at her perspiring forehead with an embroidered handkerchief. “Yes Yes I Think You Should Do That,” she says, a little too quickly. “It Would Be The Er The Mature Thing To Do.”

Rose turns back to you with a Cheshire grin, and says, “Mmm, that is certainly the case. And we are all adults here… Vriska, I forgive you. And in fact, I have something to apologize for as well.”

You always thought you were the cunning one until she came along. This puny little human has managed to surprise you twice in a minute. “8h? Wh8 for?” You ask.

“I’m sorry that I made you wear… the costume,” she says, returning your wink, “I just couldn’t resist the thought of seeing all this… in just that.”

There’s a crunching sound from across the room as Kanaya’s chair’s armrests give way to her Drinker Strongness. She stands out of reflex with a shriek of surprise, sending a shower of splintered wicker and pillow fluff. She’s glowing like an arena floodlight, blushing furiously, and judging by the state of her skirt, she’s been enjoying Rose’s and your little game immensely. You had counted on Rose to pick up on your signals but you didn’t expect her to turn it into a competition, let alone win. Add that to her win earlier in the evening and… Your pulse speeds up as you wax even deeper pitch for this shrimpy alien girl who you just can’t seem to figure out. You’ll get her back next time. For now, you think as she starts in on the button fly of your jeans, maybe you’ll… not win this one. It’s not the end of the world, after all.

“Say, Kanaya, would you mind 8ringing the Huge 8ong over? I don’t know a8out you two 8ut I’m ready for more.” 

* * *

You sigh contentedly as you settle into the soft sheets of Kanaya’s slumber dias, arms up in a position of surrender, which in this case feels a lot like victory. Rose mounts you with some effort, splaying her skinny, tights-clad legs across your hips and sitting up on her knees. She leans over you, resting her weight on your forearms as if she could really keep you pinned, and grins down at you. “Looks to me like this is where you’ve been hoping to end up all night.”

“Keep talking shit,” you snap. You feel color rising to your cheeks, but you make no move. Rose lowers her soft, warm lips to yours and kisses you sweetly, somewhat surprising you. You deepen the kiss as best you can from your position beneath your rival light player, whose little hands have begun to roam over the carapace of your arms and thorax.

From the corner of your eye, you see Kanaya making her way over to the bed, freshly-packed bong in hand. As she watches the two of you fall into one another, she flicks the lighter to life and takes a deep pull of soporific smog, this time holding the acrid smoke in without complaint. She exhales with a little “_Fwah_” and gazes sleepily at Rose. The smoke dancing in the air makes all kinds of momentary shapes and patterns that glow in her radiance, and through it she hands the piece to her girlfriend.

Your kismesis takes the proffered pipe and sits back on her haunches, readying another hit. You’re transfixed by the way her black-painted lips anticipate meeting the glass pipe, and the way her nose twitches at the acerbic odor reminds you in an unexpected way of Terezi, and involuntarily, you feel your blush spread all the way from your hornbeds to your chin. As she inhales the smoke, her warmth and weight shifts across your hips, sending a thrill up your spine. She tosses her head back dramatically to exhale, issuing a cloud of smoke that rises up into the firmament of the room, coalescing into a funky haze.

The room takes on another quality once it’s filled with smoke, and you think to yourself this is probably how it was always meant to look. The stark black and white of the room has equalized into a hazy greyscale, the pall of smoke gently diffusing the light from Kanaya’s glowing carapace and rendering your lovers in an enticing chiaroscuro. Rose slides off you enough for you to sit yourself up, and then hands you the bong. You take it greedily and light the bowl, inhaling a bit more heat than you’d intended, but this time you’re ready for it and you hold on for a few solid seconds before you start to cough. Eyes closed, you hold out the bong and lighter for someone to take, and once your hands are free you collapse back onto the bed.

Your head spins so you sigh the thick smoke out and rub your closed eyes, feeling the residual heat coat your insides in syrupy warmth, feeling your thoughts and doubts evaporate, and most of all feeling the movement of Rose’s soft, bouncy ass across your lower belly as Kanaya helps her out of her clothes. By the time your vision refocuses, Rose’s tights and sweater are on the floor and Kanaya is unclasping her bra for her. She gazes down upon you as the jade blood pulls the maroon scrap of material away, and as soon as her body is bare, Rose can’t help bringing her clever little hands to her peaked breasts and squeezing them firmly, pinching and pulling on her hard nipples and panting in an uneven rasp. You feel her heat, pulsing from where she’s seated between your hips, and it’s quickening, so you buck your hips up enough to get a hand under her ass and make to pull her panties off. She indulges you, and you draw the waistband down over the curve of her hips.

After a couple moments of awkward shifting and scuffling, Rose is once again astride you, every inch of her bared for you. For her part, she seems to be enjoying herself immensely. Casting a dominant gaze over your supine torso, pulsing with elevated breath and clad only in a thin sports bra, she begins to run her little hands over the flesh of your thorax. Paying extra attention to your bunched abdominals, she ghosts her frondtips along your surprisingly sensitive midriff, drawing shudders and involuntary gasps from you. She pulls off your bra, licking her lips as your spheres bounce free, and begins to kiss and trail her lips all across your thorax, trailing a hand down to fiddle with the button fly of your jeans. You shift and settle beneath her, gladly accepting the pleasure and warmth your lover is giving you.

You lift your hips off the bed to allow her to pull your jeans and panties off in one go, neither of you breaking eye contact. Rose, blushing heavily despite her position above you, draws back and slowly and deliberately drinks in the sight of your body, her lavender eyes practically licking your carapace from horn to toe. You immediately crave her warmth back, a fact which causes your gall to rise more than a little. You fidget and whine involuntarily, frustrated at the way your desire has been laid bare beneath the diminutive seer but unable to fight it.

Kanaya exhales a plume of smoke with another cute sigh, then notices your pique and smiles at the two of you. “Careful, Vriska, If I Didn’t Know Any Better, I’d Think You Were Enjoying Yourself,” she says, handing the bong to Rose.

“Fff… Fuck you both,” you manage, but you don’t bother to struggle as Rose takes a deep pull of smoke.

“Promise?” Rose quips, hanging the bong to you for a last rip. You sit up effortlessly, somewhat ruining the illusion, but Rose and Kanaya don’t seem to mind— the way their eyes caress your naked body as you extend an arm to take the glass tells you everything you need to know. This time you handle the sticky heat like a pro, meeting Rose’s gaze over the smoldering cinders and recognizing the challenge in it. So you fix your vision eightfold on her inscrutable face and grin, tendrils of smoke escaping from between your fangs. But before you can get comfortable, Rose does some shifting and settling of her own, placing a slender fingertip gently on your solar plexus and guiding you back down to the bed with the merest of pushes, trailed by a plume of smoke. In no time, she makes her way up your thorax, setting a knee on either side of your head and lowering herself perfunctorily down onto your face. “Well, get started then,” she says curtly.

You glare up at her even as her heat and musk envelop your senses, grasping her thighs hard enough to pale the delicate human skin beneath your grasp, but any movement you make is only translated into pleasure for your tormentor; when she gazes down at you her expression is one of pure bliss. You open your mouth to speak but she just sinks lower onto you, pressing her burning folds to your lips and tongue, flushed a rich vermillion with need and dripping with nectar. She shifts her weight over you, such that it is, and brings her hands up to squeeze and tug at her perky nipples as she begins to roll her hips. You try desperately to do anything but pleasure Rose’s pussy but it’s no use; no matter how you protest, the coquettish seer presses herself to you, grinding her pleasure out on your face, dripping juices down your chin. Fine, if the bitch wants a ride you’ll give her one she’ll never forget.

You sieze her thighs tight, claws just digging into her skin. Being sure to make eye contact, you clamp your lips to her sodden entrance and thrust your tongue deep inside her. Her head whips back, sending her hairband flying, and she scrabbles to hold onto your horns to keep from falling over, a high whine of pleasure escaping her throat despite clenched teeth. From behind her, Kanaya giggles. Blushing and grinning, golden locks hanging loose around her round ears, she resumes pinning you, a slight madness to the twinkle in her eyes. There’s the predator you’ve been looking for. Your eyes narrow, testing her resolve.

This time she’s ready for you as your tongue begins to explore her depths. She begins to roll her hips, fucking your tongue, and you savor the slick heat, finding her flavor very much to your liking. You close your lips around her piqued clit, alternating sucking on the sensitive bud and fluttering the tip of your tongue across it, listening for Rose’s breathing to give her weaknesses away. When you come across a spot deep inside that causes her thighs to clamp around your head and issue the most delicious moan, you attack relentlessly, your long troll tongue helpful to this end. She seizes one of your hands, and brings your sharp claw tips to her inner thigh, silently begging you to attend to the thin, sensitive flesh there, so you oblige her, testing the limits of her soft skin, pushing the line between pain and pleasure. In no time she’s coming completely undone above you, panting and gasping in ecstasy, reaching for Kanaya’s support to keep her upright; she doesn’t even have the breath to kiss her properly, so she simply holds on and rides out the pleasure for as long as she can.

After her bucking and gasping subsides, Rose simply allows herself to fall off you to the side, flopping onto the bed and landing in a deeply satisfied heap. She squeezes her eyes shut and heaves a whole-body stretch, every minute detail of her body illuminated by Kanaya. For her part, the rainbow drinker can’t help but noticed where your claw tips got a bit too overzealous gripping her slender thighs—she’s still slick, tinged blue with your saliva, and you left her skin rife with scratch marks and numerous points of red. A couple have even begun to bleed slightly, a fact that didn’t escape Kanaya, who’s begun nibbling her lip appraisingly. Realizing you’re both watching her, Kanaya looks up at you and Rose with a bemused expression. “You’ve Made Quite An Awful Mess, Vriska,” She muses.

Rose answers by getting comfortable and spreading her legs. “Someone’s got to clean all this up,” she says, running a finger over one of the deeper scratches to check for blood. Sure enough.

“Curious How This Manner Of Work Always Falls To Me,” Kanaya deadpans, nonetheless taking a seat before the edge of the bed and drawing her lips to Rose’s spread legs. Rose’s hand comes down and Kanaya clasps it without looking up.

Kanaya’s lips begins to make their way across Rose’s blemished thighs, kissing each cut and bruise better one by one. You… don’t really get why, but it’s hot? You’re not sure which position you’d fit into there though; you can’t see yourself giving _or_ receiving this kind of care. Maybe you should ask them about it. L8r, you decide, but defin8tely.

The scene does jog a memory, though. “Hey, Kanaya. Have you read the part in my ancestor’s journal about the uh… the we8?” you ask.

Kanaya draws away from Rose, who whines impatiently, and wipes her stained face with a forearm. “Oh Yes, I Liked ‘The We8,’” she says, then dives back in.

“Hey, uh… Has Rose read it?”

Kanaya sits back again, seeming to consider this for a moment, then smiles a bit dopily. “Rose Has Not Read Your Ancestor’s Journal. Rose Doesn’t Know About ‘The We8.’”

“Didn’t your lusus teach you not to talk while you’re eating?” Rose grumbles.

“Momentarily, Darling,” Kanaya says, “I’ve Got Something I Think You’re Going To Like.” And with that she stands up. Rose props herself up on some pillows and watches Kanaya cross the room to her bookshelf and to retrieve your ancestor’s diary. As she returns to the bed, she flips to a certain page, then holds the book out to Rose, who takes it with interest.

As Rose’s lavender eyes scan the page, they grow wider and wider. “I see what you mean… so what are you proposing we here, darling?” she asks.

“We’re Merely Proposing Engaging In A Bit Of A Reenactment,” Kanaya says breezily, sliding gracefully behind you and wrapping her arms around your waist, resting her chin on your shoulder and nuzzling your neck. You shiver slightly as her soft carapace presses to you, and sigh contentedly as you lift a hand to stroke her hair. “Mmmmmm…. I believe we have everything we need right here to perform a bit of ‘living history,’ provided you’re willing to provide narration.”

Rose sulks. “I have to watch?”

Kanaya sarcastically mimics her sulk. “You _Get_ To Watch… And Provide The Narration.”

You pipe up. “You know, it’s not like either of us has the whole thing memorized. If you took some liberties with the prose, we might be inclined to just go along with it.”

Rose’s eyes narrow slightly, one of her tells. “…Well for starters we’re going to need some rope.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More coming soon!


End file.
